For the ghost of warmth in a cooling glass,
I raise the wine to memories that pass.
For the ache of absence in a crowded room,
I search for ease in the fading bloom.
For the sting of tears beneath a starless sky,
I trace the lines where constellations lie.
Each glittering drop, a diamond in the night,
Reflecting echoes of the faded light.
Did walls rise high, or bridges fall away?
The answer is lost, still today
