I lost your face when you left for too long
Between the ancient thoughts of my childhood,
And still when to my ears sings an old song
Your memory strikes from a time so good.
I lost your voice when you forever slept
Between the dark pillows of running time,
Still it echoes as if your words have kept
Their place within my never ending rhyme.
As perfect as the ever moving earth,
As restless as the ever crushing waves,
A flame is hitting with sorrow and mirth,
So I shall feed the empty white that craves.
I lost your face, I lost your voice, indeed,
But here I am, holding them, as a seed.
