Tour

Sometimes, when evening sets swiftly,

over buildings and murmuring waters,

I walk to the now- cold house of memories,

just to touch lightly the cracked, eroded walls

of what was once a passionate affair.

Sometimes, when night falls suddenly,

I roam around the deserted streets

of the now-empty posh neighbourhood

of our own long faded love story,

Sometimes, when the dawn takes too long

and my arms find no one in the darkness,

I travel to the once beautiful old country

of our kisses and spiralling climaxes.

And then I slowly return to my own self,

leaving my secret shrine firmly locked,

till the river brings back your dear name

and our story blooms again for a second

in that time we shared and then lost,

when life and ourselves seemed eternal.