Lurking shadows in the dark.
Under ash they ignite a spark.
A spark so strong, of a memory long
...
Empty roads whisper many stories,
Of latched windows,
Of hurriedly fastened locks,
Over dusty old footprints,
...
In this autumn,
hues of yellow,
stalks of grain,
once stood tall,
...
A half moon tonight,
Part left in inquest of her,
Part still in wait of that promise.
...
Burning your letters by the shallow shores
Where we once sat watching reflections of night
...
In the whispers of this night,
a memory holds me so tight;
Was it you who just passed by,
...
Standing close to the window pane,
She cleared openings over vapory glass.
Watching hordes of white bird feathers,
...
The letter box hung nailed on a decrepit window,
That shut permanently in shattered glass,
By obscure corner of a long, ugly bunker,
Holding an old garbled pin code.
...
By the withering tree, an unfastened window bolted to timeless wait.
A damsel once sat here in sparkling eyes, open arms for her beloved,
...
Some silences are deafeningly quiet;
Like when I speak, you will not hear
...