25 May 2012
Crystal droplets
falling on my palms,
of the hands you sometimes held,
with the hands I used to hold,
those hands I no longer own.
Yet I feel I belong.
Looking up, I find your eyes,
soft blue,
and Orange shades,
when the sun sets.
And the day ends.
And your voice fades,
as I close my eyes,
repeating itself
in my mind.
Memory • Opuss № I