I was in love… a long time ago
But I never noticed that love dies slowly
It trickles away like fine grains of sand between your fingers
… no matter how tightly you clutch it.
Then one day the last few grains blow away
… blown to the winds of oblivion
You waken … and then realise that … well, it’s gone
Not just diminished. You missed that
… it’s just gone
It dispelled so silently
… like ghostly mist on a summer morning
Ephemeral but gone nonetheless
… and you cry and try to call it back, but why
The ashes of a once burning hot fire, now cold, grey dust
… cannot be relit, no rekindling will coax a flame
No phoenix will heed your call
Oh yes. Ghosts will haunt your mind
For always it seems
They mock, they wail but you pay them scant attention now
… just ghosts, phantoms of past affection.
Shades of old feeling.
And they will pass
As all things do
As love does
And the crying stops.
© 2017 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.
