Like a zephyr breeze which left my cheek yet never gone,
I did not see the writing against the silent wall.
A mask with many faces and questions never asked
of those wistful moments that now I don’t recall.
Where stars have carved our dream, the petals strewn
now radiate your fragrance in the blooms,
and sometimes in the early breaking light,
the unforgotten past fills empty, sterile rooms.
