Smokey

I can still hear you in the night-time,
Amid the rustling leaves.
I can still see your eyes,
Bright and shining in the moonlight.
I can still hear you calling behind the mirrors of my imagination
I can see a reflection, of what I remember.

You made me laugh while you were hear,
You made me cry when you weren’t.
And your vices made you only the more precious to me.
When you disappeared, you left me with an ache of fear.

Now when I raise the curtain,
To peep into the dark,
All I see is my reflection staring back at me,
And the cold stark night.
I am forced once again to accept the truth that you are gone.

But still, every time I scan the darkness,
I hold my breath,
I hide from the figment of my imagination,
So that it will not disappear so soon,

Your memory is like a swirl of smoke,
I can see it, I know it’s silky outline,
But I can never grasp it,
And turn it into something real.