Fickle, yet alive.

A feeble squeak,
Darkness hovers,
Slained in a swoosh,
The mind rots deserted,
To Virtuosity,
A last toast,
That would be it,
Freed now is the host.

Bade adieu with,
The roll of honour deserved,
Bach's tribute,
And a Cognac,
Twenty one rounds,
Into my head,
Be blessed with peace,
Ones lain dead.

Ain't no tear in my eye,
But I grieve,
Penned a song,
In its natal memory,
Inside the mind,
Valiantly it fought,
Wishing I tell its story,
The death of a noble thought.

Shadows.

And as it poured outside,
I looked on through the glass,
That which kept the rain out,
And let the light in,

A song close to the heart,
Played softer than ever,
Soaked In a feel,
That which was left behind,
Long time back,
At a crossroad, I know well,

I pushed the window open,
Ushered in the breeze,
With tiny drops of water,
Crashing against my face,
Rewinding, in that very moment,
Life that slipped by,

Through what is here,
And what is gone,
Through What you didn't ,
And what I've done.

The ride's been lonely,
From that point till here,
But I've swiftened my pace,
I'll catch up,
Before they disappear!