Not in the present, but in their past’s embrace,
In their could-have-beens, I find my place.
A ghostly companion to remorseful minds,
In their regrets, a version of me unwinds.

In the reverie of hindsight, they romanticize,
Casting my presence with a saintly guise.
Tears and pleas, once dismissed, now adored,
As they weave a tale, where I’m saintly adored.

A figure of grace, in the retrospective light,
In the canvas of memory, I stand so bright.
A saintly mirage in the past’s rosy track,
Yearning whispers echo, “Bring the saintly back.”

But neither can I resurrect the saintly lore,
Nor would I feign to be anything more.
I’d rather linger unseen and drift away,
In the cold truth’s embrace, I’ll be okay.

She strolls along the shore’s embrace,
Spotting shells, a myriad in grace.
Uniform until she lifts each one,
Details unfold, love is spun.
Gently back to the shore they soar,
Yet forever, their magic she’ll adore.

In the sands, her dreams enthrall,
Yearning to gather, hearts enthrall.
Her heart, vast, won’t simply settle,
Restless feet, a tale to peddle.
The one she seeks, a quest begun,
Home elusive, beneath the sun.