Non-refundability

The years go by. They set sail.
And we grow wise, though always late,
pierce the cold interlaced fingers,
and in the evening, a meek quiet cuckoo, with us.

Then come the memories. They stay.
The evening lilac blooms slowly,
and our gaze, held in its spell, true,
sinks into butterfly oblivion.

Eyes closed, we dare not linger
lest we move and drive away
our blue memories of youth...
We stand and the silence cries in silence.