when you are gone
emptiness resides
where you busied
the chores of love
the walls are permeated
with a sweet aroma
that feeds
my very existence
is it too late
to tell you i love you?
In a Wonderland they lie. Dreaming as the days go by. Dreaming as the summers die. Ever drifting down the stream; Lingering in the Golden Gleam; Life what is it but a dream?