The sun sets with the brilliance of color that is shrouded with the thinly floating clouds,
Just as my mind is shrouded with the floating memories of days gone by.
It is but a mist in the wind,
the kiss that was meant to be felt,
As the days turn into months and the months into a year.
My memory of your touch is but a lingering fantasy,
One that only lives in the recesses of my mind.
I am but a mere speck of floating clouds that continue to linger until the break of daylight peaks through the ever changing sky.
I long for the day, when I am no longer driven to seek those floating clouds of my lost love.
Author's Notes: Sometimes what we hold in our memory is but a fabrication of what we want to believe to be true.
