I know I'll write poems about you long after you're gone

I'll dream about your hands when mine are withered and creased

But I'll hold you while you're here and embrace the time we have

She smelled like dove soap
We both did, hands freshly washed in the bar's crusted sink

Her smile when I asked to kiss her was coy   curling where our lips finally touched

She was beauty and kindness and I couldn't measure up

Time is moving too fast
and
  I am moving too slow

I wish I could build a castle of memories

Just to have somewhere to escape my own

M
    I
      N
         D

How tragic our narrative must be

To experience a love story
Without ears to listen

I know I keep leaving
Never known how to stay in one place
I am hard to love with a gypsy soul