The Walk Back

Cold October night. The breeze bites hard.
It blows through my thoughts day by day.
The sidewalk rains; bland as the past we lived.

Walked by a bed of weeds. A familiar feeling;
like the stain left upon the soul.
A familiar feeling.

3:37 the train rumbled by. Trembling
are the shards you left behind.
It will never be the same; the colors
of the past fade to black and white.
The former reigns hard; hard as the
stone from within;

from within you.

Yet the smile at your site, brings such
delight. Light. Feather-like.

Feather-like.

Somewhere far off, an empty nest remains.
Never to experience what once was.
It just remains;

existing.