Whistling on the way.

It was so long that time I recall.

There were some pieces of things which I saw.

Some little sounds at night.

Spoken in words I could not understand,

But a meaning that I knew,

I cannot be the only one to go through it.

But at the time, I see before me, smiling faces so bright.

All at once they go, and vanish into the night.

So the only face I see is my own reflection.

And as the pool stands still, it sends a chill through me,

As ripples form on its surface.

The wind sweeps everything familiar away.

All else, is a fantasy which blocks my way home.

As every specter comes to block all the paths.

The only one who knows the road ahead,

And I forgot.


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