unmoved they stand these branches and trees
while memories are carried over the breeze
our scents meander and curl with air
but our shadows on cobblestones linger there
walking down our old hunting ground
we come across all the people we used to be
we find the selves we lost and the selves we found
the ghosts of us mirrored in eternity
the flesh is weak and the walls too long
we’ve been searching for someplace we can belong
waiting for the train we lie awake in bed
dreaming of the dreams to bring back the dead-Nausher



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