Tonight's Trees

Tonight's trees haunt me,

Snow-covered skeletons standing against the cosmos,

Beautiful in living death

(Yeah, for about a minute).

The ghost of almost-enlightenment has already faded.

Once, in life, clouds blur the sky,

The scene's already started to blur in my mind.

You will haunt me differently.

May I live a hundred years

and you live a thousand years

and our paths never cross again,

I'll get halfway to saying something

and fumble it,

Or the drink in my hand will spill,

Because even if our paths never cross again,

Our minds will.