She said 'goodbye' in two. On the wall of Rome I tremble. Running in the gardens of glory, and falling freedom, falling on her. I wave... always when the music plays. Softly on the souls along the apple tree. I roll on their hands and spin around, around and around their hands on me. Under the wooden apple tree, there is a soul's purpose on the hills. A voice whispers through the shadows, the note of the music turned into a ghost of sound. I hear her footsteps in the echo of the wind, carrying the sweet smell of apples, gone, but not forgotten. The earth trembles beneath the roots of the apple tree, its branches stretch out over me, grasping at what was held in my hands. The stars spin in the sky like memories, flickering in and out of sight, as if I were dancing between the past and the future. You are no longer in my life, you are ... gone from my life. Your shadow still hangs in the corners of my room, the silence loud; a heart that beats to the rhythm of the stars. You are gone, gone from me, my life ... I live in my life; the life of a familiar. And yet the apple tree stands still with a few branches of what I am not, its roots deep in the ground. Although you are lost to me, the sun still rises, its rays touch the stones we walked on, as if it tries to remind me: that all is not lost. Even in the silence, even in the pain, the music plays. It never stops.
