Memories were not all happy, they had a touch of sadness
through a lifetime of knowledge, stars never always
sparkled like diamonds appearing in the velvet heavens
one by one.
Summer of life was never that bright, it never showed me
that silver lining, just the lining before the silver, promises
were never promises, just empty words.
The freshness of the rose was always fresh, the thorn
pricks were more than the beauty and freshness, the harder
the prick, the deeper the wound.
Each bridge crossed, was another one closer to each
chapter finished, chapters of meanness, cruelness, friction
coldness keeping away the warmth.
The book is finished, put away, never to be read again, the
story is over, another one is just beginning, the opposite of
the story before.
Never know when life will change before our eyes changing
everything we thought we knew.
In each story, there will always be a touch of sadness to hide
away the light, but miracles happen when eyes open, realizing
the thrill of living is unforgettable.
