POETRY
Farewell Brushes Your Skin
Memories spin
In spring mist embrace,
We find ourselves in a fleeting space,
Where whispers linger, soft and near,
A gentle reminder that time is dear.
Blossoms flower with delicate grace,
While memories weave through time and space,
We never intended to say farewell so soon,
But in the mist, we find our own way home.
Each moment, a treasure to hold tight,
In the soft glow of the fading light,
Spring’s beauty, a gift we cherish dear,
As we bid adieu with hearts sincere.
Though farewells may come too soon,
In the mist of spring’s sweet boon,
Let’s hold onto each memory made,
And find solace in love untamed.
In the quiet of the spring’s misty dawn,
We linger in moments before they’re gone,
Whispers of farewell brush your skin,
Yet, in our hearts, memories spin.
Through the veil of mist, we see,
The beauty of what used to be,
Each dewdrop holds a bittersweet tune,
A melody beneath the pale moon.
Though time may bid us part our ways,
In our souls, memories will stay,
Forever etched in love’s gentle bloom,
We never intended to say farewell too soon.
In the twilight of spring’s tender song,
We find ourselves in a different space,
Where time stands still, and whispers sing,
As if to say, “We never meant to say goodbye, believe.”
Through veils of mist, memories intertwine,
Like delicate threads in harmony choir,
Each moment cherished, each bond dear,
In the soft embrace of spring, so fresh and near.
Though farewells may come sooner than we’d planned,
In the misty realm, we’ll always stand,
Linked by love that knows no end,
In the spring mist, forever our hearts blend.
Caressing tune of spring mist lace,
A bittersweet truth we must face,
For time slips by, a fleeting tune,
And we part beneath the waning moon.
Though we never intended to bid farewell so soon,
Our hearts beat on to a different tune.
Through the mist, memories linger and stay,
Guiding us through each passing day.
Let’s cherish the moments, hold them tight,
In the soft glow of fading light.
For in every goodbye, a new hello is found,
In the whispers of spring, a promise is bound.
© 2024 Amy Christie
