Decoupage

These days life is like a rock skipping across a pond. Thrown by a lover who hopes somehow to entertain. I remember her loving ways; sweeter than any name could ever describe; And she was a keeper too soon lost; but always remembered. And I want so much; to see that me; That once reflected in her eyes As I look into nights illuminations; It seems that here, lost dreams must live And time eventually became the enemy of love. And yet in a secret place of my mind are memories; Memories of yesterday’s that were once my new tomorrows. Now lost and laying about in a field of broken dreams And I loved her; but all those years of subterfuge; So often called my lessons in life; Are embedded into my heart as a constant reminder; Of yet another chapter in my noted chronicles of regrets. Always regretting what was left behind; Never learning to be still; I am pasted pieces.