In truth I had hoped that I would be that song, bright in your memory, woven into your thoughts. That melody that endures despite every year and mile. That tune that returns, not so much from the mind alone, but from the lonely wandering road of the heart. I know that this was just a sentiment to spend on falling stars. In truth, there was no music to me.
Yesterday I watched as the rain swept the streets. Today I saw crows sweep black wings across a sky so clear and blue. Even the still and the stolid never stop moving. Each day the roads open wide, each moment the world wanders wild. Streaks of stars and sparks of lives. Even things that are unchanging do not stay the same.
There was the shine of your eyes capturing the moonlight. There was the music of your laughter caught above the sound of the sea. Our footsteps swallowed by the tide. The path we wore through the nights and seasons. Our journey marked only by salt and sand. I was never a song, never a promise, never a prayer. The world we wandered together gone, the wanderers lost past thought and time. The truth of my hopes all hollow, your heart another city buried in the desert.