The touch of spirit that blew across my hands.
The past is full of memories
of people who have strayed,
and those who have gone forever.

the end of the road seems tainted
as though its just a dream
yet so many have crossed through it
never to be seen.

why do they leave when so much is left unsaid
is this life meaningless if we end up dead?
or is it meant to be special because the road 
can either be short or long.

No one knows the truth so why do we fight it
travelling with these people 
that touch our very senses.
seeing whats inside through frosty coloured glasses.
scents that just remind us.
words that we hear that bring back tears.
touching those that feel us too,
floating across our minds,
like memories of old,
you all mean so much.

and forgetfulness can hurt
when with each days little memories fade,
to be eaten by the future.
tasting the sweetness of you,
then the sourness of not knowing why.

You have touched my senses,
all of those i have lost.
your in my mind,
and in my thoughts,
rest in peace.
now your past that end,
in a dream and out of reach.