Fingers weak
trying to hold onto your memory.
Mind wandering
insisting that you were once here,
heart begging to differ.
You completed me,
I was so full of life....
Watching as the wind dances through the trees.
Maybe that's where I am,
sweeping through the branches of the aged willow
air lifting my soul
beckoning another chance,
pleading for what I once was...
and I remember,
looking into my eyes
my reflecton screaming back at me,
fingers scratching at the mirror,
gradually subsiding to the monotonous me.
The tears are seldom now.
That image flows with like movements
smiling when I do
soul torn from missing you.