Poetry
1 min
A Last Memory
Damin Yi
The morning breeze skidding against the skin,
A scorching summer day riding with the wind.
She glides through for a final leap,
Grasping for a thin strand of string.
Intertwined with her past,
She only looks forward to the last.
The strand wearing off as she stares,
Soon there will be none to spare.
Only, she is now facing the wind,
On a journey, she can never resist.
A glimpse reflecting off the blue light of temptation reaches for her hand,
Met with the last glance of the withering strand.
Filled with the memories of her friends,
She rejects them, thinking that they will always mend.
Her trembling lips pursue a dream,
In which she was never able to redeem.
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