As I sit among the machinery,
all of my memories flit and flee,
like fireflies in the summer night,
caught by children gleefully.
I abhor this metallic scenery,
dirt and rust all covered in dust,
so I have to try with all my might,
to survive the storm and fight the gust.

So I think to the time when I was alive,
I believe that I was twenty-five,
and strolling through the garden glen,
our passion was the deepest dive.
The present wouldn't dare deprive,
my missing piece, my long lost love,
the moonlight shining on you then,
from broken clouds on high above.

To see you in the bare lit hue,
your lashes dripping midnight's dew,
was such a searing, stunning sight,
paled angels beauty far and few.
For it was you and only you,
that kept my heart until the end,
your fire burning warm and light,
so bright no heart it could not mend.