Chapter 3 – The Subject of Our Conversation

Drifted

From planes of reality to

The extent of our imaginations

Defining each other

Sounding off – sharing

We found ourselves

Searching, strolling

Sometimes staggering

On a path of similar direction

For now, he is no stranger

The ink we spill so

Selfish

Insatiable is my song

However imperfect the pitch

Our words – how ever permanent

Soon fade

Just as distance provokes a shout

And mountains mimic us in echo

I heard you as you spoke

Of tomorrow’s memories

Make my day