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外链地址
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The night unravels slowly
on the boulevard of silver lights.
A taxi hums like distant memories
fading into quiet nights.
Your silhouette in lamplight—
soft as smoke from old cigars.
You turned and smiled the way
one smiles beneath forgotten stars.
The shutters creak, the curtains sway,
like a scene paused halfway.
And every echo on these streets
repeats a line you meant to say.
A violinist near the archway
plays a tune the world forgot.
Its gentle notes drift upward
like promises we almost caught.
I watch the passing strangers
cross the frame where you once stood,
their footsteps fading softly
like endings never understood.
And every passing headlight glows
like the strike of a match that slowly blows—
a brief reminder in the dark
of everything we used to know.
In this shadow café,
where time keeps pouring bittersweet and slow,
I still hear your voice
in every whispered line of the radio.
Through the haze of desert winds,
through reels of dust and film and rain,
I keep tracing back our story—
frame by frame by frame.
If life is just a cinema
where lovers wander scene to scene,
then maybe we were written
as a tale too bright for black and white to screen.
But if tomorrow brings a moment—
a flicker in the film’s refrain,
I’d meet you at the shadow café,
and play our reel again.
In this shadow café,
where lonely hearts trade silhouettes for songs,
I wait in the amber glow
where every quiet night belongs.
Through the hush of desert winds,
through reels that never quite explain,
I hold the final frame of us—
and whisper back your name.