The Lips that echo
An empty tune
Towards the glass
In the dusty afternoon
Allow me a Gust of nostalgia
To saunter along past,

As scenes roll and replace 
A blazing sky against the mountain scape
A crescent and then sudden gloom
But not without the bloom,
A colorful crescendo of day
Let's whisper and visualise the stars under the full moon's rays.

But that's just the landscape of me.
Aboard the Train of time
Hypnotized by these Trails of thought.

I wish
I cry, I cry
I silently die
In this unheard, muttered
Defeat.