I get blinks of old ramshackle memories
Seems like some old hallucination
Transparent with every second
Dimmer then on:
Just being in the moment
Forgetting to encapsulate it.
Presently they continue to exist only as dilapidated dreams.
And when I am at peace they slither in:
To take me away to this familiar island euphorically,
Far from tribulations,
These moments carved in our life scripts:
Just like names of lovers on the beach,
Only to be washed away rhythmically, comfortably,
By punctual tides of time
And now all that remains
Are these nebulous old dreams in this script of mine.