over some fulfilled space
  flow these senses freely
  out of my aching self, slowly
  grasping prints of your embrace.

  strolling along the seashore
  handpicking the grains
  of our sandcastle
  washed by the noon tide.

  echoes of your murmurs
  chilled by an early summer rain
  reaching my inner me hiding
  the pain etched in your letter.
   
  the pendulum's rhythmic swing
  by the old wall still audibly chimes
  those fleeting gasps and whispers
  lying abandoned on the night couch.