perjantai 27. kesäkuuta 2014

Hours, still

Hours slowly slipping away from me
like his bare feet in the morning
against the cold wooden floor
when he was trying to surprise me

As that time is, soon will be this too
those memories grow a golden wrap around themselves
as I go on forgetting details
hour after hour

Still I lie
and haven't found anything comparable to that time
he was still

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