Finding Us on Memory Lane
If I said love was endless, would you believe me?
Or would you be too busy riding your bicycle
that takes you through 24/1 Memory Lane?
Once on the road, will you look for me,
in aging houses which smell of a fading love?
Will you hide in your bright yellow summer dress,
that made the dying sun a little less majestic?
Will you look for the tiny fingers on my innocent hand,
searching for the truth that you never believed in?
Or trace the lines on my palm,
Hoping to find them on your own?
Would you stop at my place on Memory lane,
and ring my doorbell, waiting for my memory to answer?
Or would you just pass by, waving,
like the sea does to the distant shore?
Do you remember my rooftop and your half-torn heart,
on your sixteenth birthday and umpteenth heartbreak?
And how the rain poured down, like my soul,
Unable to let you cry in solace?
Don’t you remember us as we were,
before becoming who Time told us to be?
I always told you love was endless,
unlike the moments which passed us by
and now that you open your eyes,
you are 38 and I, lost.
And both of us are living somewhere on memory lane,
trying to find sense in absence.
So, tonight, I need you to hold onto my memory,
Like you should’ve held onto me all that time ago.
Let the moon bleed tonight.
Let the night cry on its own.
I will find you in the morning, mio amore,
In a place which never found itself.