Lost is my sight, in the vanishing smoke,
In my imagination I could be anything, I was not.
I dream of white shores and a fire ***,
I roam with hippies and I am broke.
  
Loose is my grip, over the sands of time,
Is there, life beyond this shine,
The smell of barbequed fish and wine?
I lost a lot, in my prime.

Gone is the wind, which carried her smell,
She still mocks me, on her honeymoon in Venice.
Blinded by her spell, I walked into the hell,
I am pinned, in my loneliness.

Lingering are my thoughts, in the mist and Rain drops,
The earthly scent and yellow, red, blue blooms.
The winter passed and the spring sobs,
There is still hope, across these catacombs.