Few Random Thoughts

With the heady breeze blowing in,
I sit on the window of a moving engine,
Images keep creeping up,
Of the lost lady and her last dance.
How I watched every step in perfect melody,
With the divine grace that once she tread.

Now all that is left is a bitter memory,
Of something I longed.
I look out without catching a good look,
Everything just speeds away now,
Without leaving a trace of how it was.
The amnesia seems to be selective,
And I fail to remember what I wish.

She's been left behind with what was me,
I've moved ahead to a blind turn.
The westerly brings some sweet news,
And reassures that theres everything to play for,
That the songs maybe different now,
But don't lack in their rhythm,
That when I sing them,
People will once again stand up and listen.