Like the cool breeze, the years flow.

Along with the memories, I watch them go.

Day by day, I write in my journal,

letting the memories, by pen, show.

My love for the past will never end.

I will rot until the past and I seek ammends.

I live in each previous year that passes by,

with no look at the future, 

only the look in your past eyes. 

As the years pass, I sink deeper.

Deeper into the dark abyss of memories.

It happened all too quickly,

my memories run with the wind.