(T. Beechey)

There's still an echo of her presence which fills my inner being
With the beauty and the essence of all that is agreeing
To the soul and to the spirit and,for that,I give you praise
Although I sometimes fear it may be just a passing phase
I hope that I'm mistaken and her presence shall adorn
Each moment I awaken to the songbirds in the morn
And she'll be the last reflection at the closing of the days
For I treasure this connection...don't let it be a passing phase

Just a passing phase which never stays
Only allows a glimpse to those which gaze
Upon what shone color through the grays
Of a life otherwise so dull
Take all that I possess and own
Leave my times with her alone
Without them,existence would be known
As nothing whatsoever at all

She was all that ever mattered in a world that mattered none
As I wander through the shattered dreams of what begun
My only prayer's to be permitted to continue along the ways
That we were so committed if this is not a passing phase
So,I hope life's understanding as I speak my only plea
I hope I don't appear demanding for that's not the style of me
All I ask is but a moment in the aura of her haze
Which shall remain unspent if this is a passing phase

Just a passing phase,one that plays
A minor role,for a while ablaze
Then fizzles out with the fading rays
Of an insequential sun
I cannot even bear the thought
That all we had and all we got
Will simply all just go for naught
And what we've shared is done

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