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Fog slips in unnoticed, breathlessly
veiling solitude's cloaks of milky whites,
brushing cheeks and brows, wetted
within the shrouded mist's silent hush.
R.E. Slater, Fog

It's just a dream you keep alive by dreaming
A balloon that wants to hit the ground and burst
But which you keep afloat by thinking.

The past is only a tail
You keep dragging behind you
Collecting dust and dirt
Until it's so heavy with bitterness and regret
It stops you moving forward.
Steve Taylor, Forget the Past: A Poem

We grew up when we forgot
how to ride dry summer winds
on a rusty bike,

and how to make the night last longer
by counting the stars
from the pier;

when we started reading maps
to find treasures, no longer
for the thrill,

and when the mountain breeze
blew out all the will-o-the-wisps
in our woods.

That's when we lost each other,
amidst the waves of the first sunset
hat we didn't share,
and our grown-up selves still pretend
not to care.
Giada Nizzoli, To lost friendships

Chocolat, Film Symphony Orchestra

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