A Call Back

By Tempest

When the cold breeze
Flutters through your hair
And the warmth of sunlight
Catches itself glinting
On the frame of your glasses

I remember the days
When we were only glances
Tucked in small cafes
And the palm of your hand
Was tantalizingly distant

I begged to every god
And mourned to fate
For your embrace
So she wilted every flower in my pot
To plant a new one for me to grow