Memories
I watch as in the breeze
the tender willow trees
like a slow beat, gently sway,
as the memories all slowly fade away.
The memories I want to grasp,
in my heart, an unbreakable clasp,
for who would want to forget
the sacred times with just no fret?
Yet they're slipping through my hands, but as time goes by,
New ones replace the old ones, but why?
If I don't want a new future, but instead the past?
And I look at the trees,
swaying in the breeze,
and they whisper to me - some things don't ever last.