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.