Flecks of gold.

How a memory can freeze in time
And thor at the precise moment that you recall it, like opening an old book
knowing readily how it ends

Somethings aren't so easy to come by, nor easily forgotten, though time itself may reclaim that beauty,

I found him on the roadside 
A wonderer  by the nook, he was a pucular fellow like a character in a book, his hair was messy, though he kept it short, a good looking man
not a bad sort, he was into record's 
the old player turning tunes
He sang a lot of freedom,  and counted up the moons, a handful of stars he'd lay down for his bed, he didn't like the darkness,  to many ghosts he said, he would watch the night sky and keep his dreams real closely by,  he had a fascination with that grand old open sky, his eyes Would shine as he spoke of love, but little love he knew to tell, for only once had his heart had fell, 
And on that night he touched the earth,  he lay down his body to the wind and rain,  and with his love embraced what's dear, time and
time again, he woke to lonely shadows, by morning she had gone away, he searched for her long hours
he looked for her all day

Something they come as bliss unfolding as a pleasant breath, and others come to haunt the heart
as love surfides as death

I'm sure someday she may return 
And in her trails find him home
 
That night they left eachother empty
Took in the love that they could hold,
and love like that is never silver 
But made with flecks of gold.