What remains

Hmm. Oh. I'm by the window, watching rain fall.

The streets are shining calm and white. An old photograph upon the table.

Two young souls, eyes open wide. The years slipped softly through my hands.

I chased the things I didn't understand. 'Cause in the end,

it's not what you own. Not the house, the gold, or the throne.

It's the kisses that you truly feel. The road you walk where love

is real. I counted days, but not the laughter. Yet your hand

stayed mine forever after. What remains, my love, is you and