That night as the warm wind blew through the unsettled windows
Driving armies of little prickles down the side of my exposed legs
Drawing warmth from the naked maiden, eyes closed, semi-lucid
But the myth of time that ticks silently on in the blurry distance
Calls out names that ring familiar through my ears
Itching at the lost memories that shan’t return again
Smiling at the pure maiden of the sweet summers night
And knowing it won’t last much longer in spite the desolation it entails
Grabbing hands tear at the strings laid upon my back
And I sit back down, resting my frayed hairs upon the silken sheets