Another night sometime in january
The light breeze of sweet cold wind moves everything I see
Even the stars and moon agreed
This is one of those ‘could-have-been-perfect’ nights
A couple of people gather in a small dim-lighted room
Around eight orders of ice cold beer
Everybody was talking, laughing
But only his voice is what I hear
Only his face is what I see
Wishing the night won’t end
But the clock ticked twelve.
A whisper was heard,
“Every happy dream has to stop…”
Some things are meant to make us happy
Only when they’re free from our grasp.
- January 2009