These pages are ashes of us
holding no more of what is left.
Keep on lighting those memories,
as you burn and burn your tail out.

Your tyres still roll our amorous
as it quickly leaves with the heft.
Should you be told the same stories?
these pages are ashes of us.

This night holds no curtains of worries
if you’d still be my firefly.
The owl beside my window hissed
holding no more of what is left.

Shall I write more, of what essence?
When dark and gloom is still with me.
Fireflies so bright and awake
keep on lighting those memories.

Here and now my mind only thinks
of what we’d be and where we’d live
with pictures of our hi’s and bye’s
as you burn and burn your tail out.

This façade has my mind’s eye from back
the bird you are with light taken aback
I thought you called me, because I could see.
At night, your company I won’t lack





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