Memory

Short poem about remembering an old love/flame

In these days of new, often
Memories of the old lingers
Fleeting glances of a voyeur
of what is no more, can not be
Sight of someone, is that me?
Passion and desire roll the dice
A lost game, played too late
Might see you sometime,
But it wouldn't be the same
In these days of new, often
Only dreams remain.