Déja Vu
Illusion is the scent of something real coming close.
Tattered memories sewn together to recapture
A person, a place, a feeling now gone.
Still frozen in a motionless second of time
Contained inside a picture frame
Which passed thru many hands ends up back where it started
With the original placed lovingly within.
Illusion is the scent of something real coming close.
As a shadow passes by the open doorway
A familiar fragrance enters
And we linger deeply...inhaled by the past.
Then as the footsteps fade, turn the corner and disappear
We hesitate
And the chance to reconnect is lost forever.
While our grief stricken soul follows swiftly behind
Begging forgiveness.
Illusion is the scent of something real coming close.
As two sullen hearts....on the verge of surrender
Each given a key to the same lock
Seek release
And are brought together on a tiny plot of land
That eternity has reserved for them alone.
Then fate conpires to keep them apart
And they in their despair turn suddenly and find each other again
Both exchanging all they own for a single withered flower of happiness
Which is renewed by the falling tears of joy.
And the circle is complete
As the new Sun arises.
Dwayne Pagnotto