Like all things, the past turns into a dream.
It is no longer real,
Just a memory,
Moments held in our hearts of time.
And in that,
Each one of you just a memory in my heart,
A memory I call upon from time to time,
A memory I thank,
And sometimes a fantasy I believe may also be a prediction.
For in the realms of no time,
You are only here in these visions of mine.
© Emma Sumner 2009