In the quiet old streets, your immaterial presence was there,
shaking the foliage of their black trees with your mournful breath.
Hovering over the ancient building as an estranged spirit,
detached away from all her beloved ones by the mighty hand of the stony heart of the passing of time.
Weeping softly through the dark, meager raindrops of the somber autumn upon my bleeding wounds.
Putting your ethereal hand upon my depressed heart, joining my solitary walk amid your archaic roads.
Revealing to my heart your distant call of your entombed dreams that are still screaming in their graves.
Revealing to my heart that there is still a place for both of us amid the conqueror night of your cement city,
a place to germinate again as new souls amid its timeworn gardens.
Walking again with the hearts of hopeful dreamers in spite of our agony and pains.
Revealing to me that our timeless love has always been there for both of us,
just waiting for your physical presence.