It’s an absence
Of our entire essence;

Lost I have been among these woods;
My bare feet drum a path of your presence;

Leaves sitting among the branches
Their colorful array of moods.

Murmur a wind from a depth
I’ve once glimpsed behind these trees

For a buried world’s shoulders
Awaken an embrace for my soul;

It’s always been here, hasn’t it?
Always sneeking behind,
Waiting for the day,
I dare.. to turn around.

For in the end, there’s rebirth.

Time isn’t anybody’s friend,
How I wish I knew this, before then.
Seasons rush past my fingertips,
I swear to caress each minute;
Can kiss those leaves goodbye,
Tho It never quite feels like it’s the end.

A never ending carousel spinning,
Turning each and every page;
Faces mold into a montage of past adventures;
Swear chapters flown by,
Yet I haven’t seen a glimpse of winters fall.

Oh, Radiant sunshine
Guide me threw your
Different shades of passages,
Keyless, and directionless I dare;

Shivers hide behind my spine,
Cautionary light footprints whisper feathers
To an age old harden curiosity.

Time is simply a storyteller of great many tales.
How I wish I knew this, before then.

I can’t seem to relieve the blues
So stuck upon the edges of my eyes;
Perfume flowers is all you left on my hand,
Their fragrance of Innocence
Is fainter and fainter,
Yet the skies can’t even seem
To bacon back these blues of mine,

It’s a sadness who chooses
To have it’s riverbank
Upon my eyes.

Forgiveness
Is the first flower
Who is daring enough
To grow on what once was;
To give you what will be.

Distance,
A wonderful craftsman indeed
Upon fate’s request,
Dutiful as always.

Articulates time,
By seconds he fixes hours,
By hours he polishes days,
By days he rewrites years.

For it’s own amusement?
Perhaps, fascinated of
Time’s spontaneous remedies
For the heartsick.