The scars that torture me are hidden;
phantoms of conversation past.
The wisps of “I love you,”
fading into the silent roar.
The laughter we once shared,
now scattered on the wind.
Words that used to caress my soul,
are now cold as winter’s eve.
Mem’ries too far, mem’ries too few…
but the music is still sweet.
©March 9, 2011 ~ DBC Duke of the Arctic