Tender are the moments spent on cloud pillows with blanket memories
Once solid visions turn to merely smells of a gusting by past
Recollections found in the wind taste of a sweet spontaneity
Held by hearts that never let go, and minds that casually forget
A thumping from within never quiet beneath the skin
To the dreams ran away from that fill watery eyes
Merely to awaken to an empty world that a heart may despise
Never to return as the sun does after the coldest night
Defining a realization that alone, now, one must fight
As the half that promised to never leave has all but gone away
Yet always trapped in daydreams, in an almost timeless kind of way