It will linger.
Like the steadfast glow in a wanderer’s café,
Where midnight steam curls through lamplight haze,
Like the October breeze weaving through lantern-lit streets,
Like the sun’s first breath spilling gold across the earth,
The silver hush of the moon guarding the dark.
It will linger.
like the ghost of their favourite perfume
That still walks through empty rooms,
Like the unyielding grasp of a father’s shielded hands,
Like the fierce, desperate clutch
Of a newborn anchoring its first world.
It will linger.
Through the thinning of years,
Through the quiet,
That swallows names and faces,
Through the marrow of all things,
That will not let go.