Apr 17
I can feel you looking at me*
Through the faded colours of time,
A specter of my past self
Captured in creases, suspended in grain.
Sepia sighs curl at the edges,
Laughter trapped in silvered ink,
Eyes full of boundless longing,
Unaware that years would shrink.
I run my finger along the years,
A fragile thread, a fleeting ghost,
Did I once dream beyond this frame,
Or did the moment hold me most?
Yet here we stand, reflections blurred,
The self I was, the self I bear,
A silent nod across the years,
A whispered thought: *I’m still in there.
Through the faded colours of time,
A specter of my past self
Captured in creases, suspended in grain.
Sepia sighs curl at the edges,
Laughter trapped in silvered ink,
Eyes full of boundless longing,
Unaware that years would shrink.
I run my finger along the years,
A fragile thread, a fleeting ghost,
Did I once dream beyond this frame,
Or did the moment hold me most?
Yet here we stand, reflections blurred,
The self I was, the self I bear,
A silent nod across the years,
A whispered thought: *I’m still in there.
