Wilting roses by the fireside
Coffee warming bones chilled from the boat
Drifting thoughts to stagnant memories
Thawing words from poems you never wrote
Wilting roses by the fireside
Coffee warming bones chilled from the boat
Drifting thoughts to stagnant memories
Thawing words from poems you never wrote
Chasing time down a rabbit’s hole
Knowing there’s no way to go on back
Don’t look that way, it’s a mirage
Ghosts aren’t known to be tracked
But we seldom heed our own advice
Reason vanished into our past decisions
Demons try to cling, but they don’t exist
For these antiquated memories are mere apparitions