She silently watched the horizon turn red
The day satisfactorily coming to an end
His breath played softly caressing her neck
Her hands still lay held in his hands

He silently watched the horizon turn red
The day grudgingly coming to an end
Few loose locks played softly on her neck
His hands still lay held in her hands

They silently watched the horizon now red
The day had to, had come to an end
He held his breath, she closed her eyes
And wished each other to let go today

Monsters only lived in books
And books stayed on the shelves
Shelves were a stack of rickety wood
And wood only woodcutters'd sell

Sell and buy was what money did
Money always stayed in wallets
Wallets only grown-ups carried
And grown-ups we never were

We played in fields, on streets, on tracks
In any place anybody'd spare
Places that didn't have any names
And names never had last names

Last was supposed to never arrive
Arrived each year new friends
Friends always came in groups of ten
Ten was the time for bed

Beds were always a lair of tales
Tales of great heroes and villains
Villains weren't always that bad
Except monsters that came back

The memory of being "there"
Finally overwhelms me.
The question I ask is not "where"
But "how long it has been."

My footprints haven't faded yet,
Again I'm tracing them back.
In sands of time they have been set
Only by any long absences' lack.

Still such great loss fills my heart.
The weight of those dead moments
Which, with your thoughts, did part
Lingers, haunts, chokes and torments.