A half remembered poem, a dream,
a scent, a touch, a careless style,
a memory now here, now gone
elusive as an infant's smile.
Was there caprice, a transient glow
that brought me joy, or was it grief?
Through shadowed paths of time I search,
illusion mocks me, time's a thief.
My eyes have paled to emptiness
this wintry vista never planned,
my soundless song no longer sung
my footprints leave no mark on sand.
How tenuous my days, so thin
that I could slip through falling rain
and stay untouched by any drop
of fearful joy or daunting pain.
Yet something magic once filled me
and dim remembrance clouds the pain
of dissipating into air
with no one knowing I was there.
