These days that are going by
are like footprints on dry sands.
Even the most feeble wind
can sweep them away.
Or instead they well be
swallowed by the quicksands
of a careless time.
What will it remain of these moments?
We have not a mark, not a sign.
What will be left to remind?
Nothing but the evanescent yet vivid
memory of our souls.
But we remember what we love
and we keep it alive in our thoughts.
Will I be a living memory for you
or will I become a sheer ghost
in a dusty corner of your mind?
How I yearn for immortalizing
these flashes of our life,
to have imperishable memories of us
Instead nothing it will stay
but my evaporating words.