Zmote on the Pen

There you were. And there I was. The moon’s gaze was still upon us. Surrounded by mighty mountains, In each others final stare. You asked me ‘Do you want to stay?’ I answered ‘No’ ‘But in truth, I really don’t want to go’… ‘You’ll miss your train’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, it won’t matter’ I said. The faint memory then vanished. All hope and desire perished. There you stood. There I was walking. A strange dream, perhaps not worth of talking. Maybe a farewell. Maybe a goodbye. Perhaps a madman’s illusion seen through a teary eye… Who can say, who can deny, The future, the past, the present Nor our fate we can defy…