It's that time of the year, not this, but a couple
ago,
Nostalgia isn't right; it's all still fresh as I
walk the same road,
Memories aren't supposed to be that bad, hurtful,
The timeline remains the same, as history repeats
itself,
I see you here, and also her, clear as it could be,
Warding off the black, shedding the light he ought
to have then,
It's so different, yet it's all the same, faces,
actions,
Coincidences aren't supposed be this prevalent,
Jet black it was, now dirty grey, the shakes aren't
visible,
The haze is an envelope, holding in it the letter of
a new beginning,
There has to be a start to every end,
A wrong for every right, just like you for me,
Time walked past us, but we caught up; we lost a
battle, but not the war,
The tide may change, but not the sea,
There's moisture on my face, an awakening, stealing
away the clogginess,
Pushing away a face, your face; it’s not the rain,
but the mist.
