I think I'd like to just sit In the gray of what's past My eyes see it as awry and colorless But I can still taste the memory Feel it on my skin I can hear laughter Gentle whispers And smell the scent of a desire incomparable to that of any prior or future That isnt to say that the connections that have or will exist couldnt be better But instead that they each have a unique aroma Still I'd like to sit watching the gray As this lingering scent Slowly dissipates