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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.