Your voice it

sounds the same,

through time it

 

bounces memory.

 

We laugh as if

I’d never left:

I always leave

 

as if our love

is not bereft

of living.

 

I know that

you’re still mine,

a twist of soul

 

padlocked

from the cold

buried deep

 

in summer dream:

the key you

threw away

 

not knowing

it was gold.

 

So tell me who’s

the fool? Who thought

time would heal?

 

Or find you

someone new

to play our tune?

 

Your voice

it sounds

the same

 

& it’s better

to believe that

tomorrow I’ll awake

 

to gold again.