So silently, the shadows formed, and cloaked what once, was shining bright.
How softly, crept the darkness, into what, was once, a sweet delight.
Your hand has slipped from my hand, and the touching... just too far away;
the hopes of what might once have been... perhaps, not destined, then, to stay.
What might have been... but, futile hope; but, futile hope... for what might be;
futile... perhaps, but then... not wasted;
lingering, as sweet memory.

A fleeting promise blossoming; a heady taste of sweet romance,
star-crossed from the beginning, for, in truth... it stood, but little chance.
The blossom failed... beset by frosty circumstance, it did not set...
and bore no fruit; yet, l cannot, that fragile blossoming... forget.
All echoing the promise of the springtime after winter snows;
but springtime was too late, alas... and silently, the promise froze.

No more than now a soft reflection... drifting mists of yesterday;
l know not, where you might have gone... l know not, how to find my way
to you, again...
the path is lost; like tears in falling rain... swift washed
away...
your footsteps fading softly... how long then, 'till they are lost
forever...
into nothingness? No memory of you, and l.
A fledgling love, lost from the nest of hope...
before it learnt to fly.

To wander far into the realm of shadowed, half-remembered dreams,
seeking out some absolution... this then, is my fate, it seems.
Searching always, for some reason as to why it could not be...
knowing always, that there is no answer there to comfort me.
And, in the shadows... soft, faint echoes of your footsteps linger still...
a sweet refrain; unfinished...
ever haunting...
as it always will.