Tuesday, November 15, 2011

With the empty glass in my hand

Silently on a wooden chair
raising a toast to me
memories, swing around
the soft warm air
It’s not hard anymore
not with a glass in my hand

every thing’s still the same
but the time is moving
forward back
and with pictures still in the wall
It’s hurt sometimes, but not now
not with a broken glass

I’m here thinking about
those days spent
and those that I am spending now
and the difference seem
to fade away with a glass in my hand

but the music seems to fade away
so does the remedy in the glass
the time seems to fade away
and slowly does the memories
With the empty glass in my hand

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