"And
I wonder
When I sing along with you
If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again..."
-Foo Fighters---Everlong
When I sing along with you
If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again..."
-Foo Fighters---Everlong
We walked the
streets until full dark, city lights kicking on to illuminate our
steps. Walking with unhurried steps, no fears of what tomorrow holds
or concern for the future. We will never grow old, so time wasted is
no time at all, we have plenty of it, we have it to burn.
The days passed in a
blur of emotions, moments made from long drawn out conversations, car
rides and broke down couches we sat on, we dreamed. The hands we
clasped, the embraces we held, the poignant moments we etched into
time itself. The images still carved into stone, erected into our
past, the street corners, the boulevards, the hallways, the empty
alleyways, the quiet rooms, standing tall and waiting.
The minutes turned
into hours and the hours turned into seasons. The seasons passed by
without much notice and became our past. Then those seasons turned
into fond memories. The memories turning into embellished
stories we shared amongst the few who knew, the few who were there
and passed the days with us, who bled the blood, who tasted the tears
and laughed for joy.
Now we have new
streets, and new cities. We have different seasons passing, framed
in a new lens of time, seen with different eyes, aged and sharpened,
hardened and sobered.
Now our hours
quickly turn into minutes and our days into fleeting glances as we
hold hands with different people, embrace new friends, and make new
memories that quickly mix into the background of aging quietude.
The sparks burn low
and our eyes shine bright, we walk the streets and in the distance we see the city
limits.