Echoes 20-04-23
Melancholic notes of a lone flute brush past my ears,
the night yet to settle but the sun long gone,
only a rosy pink glow shimmering behind depthless clouds.
A drizzle of rain falls gently,
ricocheting off of the wooden roofs,
running off its slanted edge,
thrumming harmonically on the stone slabs below.
How many springs has it been since you left,
I wonder as I think about us.
The rights and wrongs of our past have already begone,
yet how can I leave it all behind?
Your golden eyes, your radiant smile,
the starry love I once wished to be.
I gaze deep into my cup
watching it fill with rain,
drop by drop; inch by inch
mirroring the tears gathering in my eyes
and the growing pain.
Bittersweet memories circle me like a fire,
unable to escape.
Full of people is the world,
yet none like you will ever return.
I always tell myself that it is better to let you go,
maybe I pretend it was all a dream,
but I keep coming back,
Back to the place where we belong together.
I picture how you used to sit here,
the rays of sunlight diving through the pine trees,
picture them illuminating you as you played the flute so elegantly.
The laughs we shared, the tears we shed,
that's all gone now; memories are my everything.
So many evenings I have sat here,
losing myself in history,
reminiscing in the tunes you used to play
and in those melodies I find solace,
somewhere where the pain is not so great,
somewhere where the grief won't rip canyons in my heart.
So as I pick up your flute and begin to blow,
the first shaky notes of Dance of the Blessed Souls
rings across the countryside.
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