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When we met it was no longer the same,
she cried on Fridays, my laughter in the abyss.
The wind whispered stories of yesteryear,
but the quiet echo brought a strange hurt.
The city lights shone like stars,
but their eyes searched for shadows in the footprints.
The kiss we dreamed of, sweet and promised,
Was lost in sighs, was badly wounded.
Sundays were laughter, now they are lamentations,
and those golden dreams vanish in moments.
The song that was music turned to silence,
the song of souls longing for a new beginning.
