was a curs’ed design
to suffer unknowing –
would memories come
when thought
they were gone

a song
or a sigh
a word without meaning
but to worlds once created
by some other hand

when tears become rain
and the road
a reminder – of once
we were talking
of where we might go

when leaves cannot fall
without colors
creating –
a glass through which heaven
seemed dull
(that one day)

when shadows
though harmless
hold whispers of something –
late nights
and lifetimes
of stars rarely crossed

lines crease the page
of a map so familiar –
as verses run back cross
our days –

and your name
never quite sounds the same

a curs’ed design
as flame to a vapor –
as breath to the half
we recall