Clinch onto the swirling wind. Have a glimpse of ancient sins. Taste a ray of amber light. As the weary sun goes down. . There is yet another shore. Luna's light won't, leave you anymore.
A fading photo on a wooden shelf. Sneering in your face unlike the memory of the little boy. From what you call the good old days. The bitter taste of fall, the smell of wet concrete walls.
In cover of a dazzling full moon. I pace in the hall rendered harmless by the memory. Of what I used to be night's soon over. I dread another sunrise the pain of knowing.