I don’t write poetry, atleast not anymore and not for a long time now. But reading whimsicalthread‘s Yearning, made me remember something I’d written once (though I’m better at reading than writing). This is a sort of tribute then, I suppose…


Each moment that passes

becomes a distant memory,

an unreachable dream.

I embrace those memories

with all my might,

yet I cannot live in the moment

that has taken flight.

These memories have become nothing

but particles of my past

yet shining with such crimson light

even the moon cannot cast.


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