Once by the banks of the River Fen, nothing
fell out of place. You told me that you did not like
AC/DC, but we agreed it was hard in this city for
two guitars, bass and drums to see the point.

The sun was out and we could see forever,
a gentle breeze played with falling leaves,
creating landscapes of spilled remnants.
But you told me not to worry, they are just leaves.

We looked at the counterfeit buildings, and counterfeit trees,
and wondered about sound and silence.
And if human memories always find empty spaces,
in places where people no longer hear the buildings sing.

Now, a portrait of a moment, singular and more
precious, a breeze to ease the pain of stolen moments with you.
To drift in-between will never be enough,
but memories left to grow old.