Your bronze hair moved back and forth, 

physique like a Greek graven image

saunter along a street of cobblestone

across a well-painted pavilion. 

I walked swiftly

oblivious that you were behind me

as if you care for a conversation

maybe to talk about law, love, or marriage

you do not quite understand. 

As I was noticing you

my stride slowed down. 

O time past, I may only perceive you

outside the block universe

like a ghost who doesn't care of the living

a picture that doesn't mind my gaze

an information that can't be destroyed. 

There is no way of going back

to offer her ice cream or chocolate, 

to invite her to drink a cup of coffee, 

anything and everything

as long as she is with me

or I am with her. 

Past is real, memory is real

imagination is real? 

maybe to the heart of a man who loves.

By Fhen M.

From: Philippines

Instagram: poet_of_virtue_and_sin

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