The perfect captured in the imperfect lens. Streets bathed in autumn gold, swirling winds and hopes beneath the glass. Something will remind you, a scent, a scene, love gained love lost. The strings with hearts attached.
That unlimited sense of freedom. Energy and its eternal delight. All streets beneath our footsteps. Lost cafes by the old bookstore and marina sushi bars. Tales buried in snow. Faded memories and a pair of eyes. What could’ve should’ve. Then there is that. An alternate life. Gilded sails beside you, and the phantom winds at our back. That was then, and this is now. We arrived too late for our meeting in the night.
I bought a new coat. Did I tell you? It’s warm and fuzzy. Traps the heat just right. Perfect this winter, when I saw you riding snowy breezes on your broomstick made of ice. Entangled in the impossible, attractors at the edge of time, brief passing glances, you said, 'come boy, let us build castles in the sand'. Not for me or you to direct the flow of traffic or the ebbing of the rushing tides. No tender hand to hasten the blooming of the flowers. Let old man winter blow his frigid load as we warm our fingers in the fire.