Yesterday I thought of you
And the yesterday before 
It seems as if my yesterdays 
Are full of nothing more. 
It is not only yesterdays 
of which you’ve entered in

For tomorrow is soon to come
Where more thoughts of you begin
to never end, dissolve or disappear.
This is my beautiful paradox.

My prison without keys
My evening without the sun
My heart without memory
For you are always there.

SB