one of the last nights before moving

Now there are ghosts.
Tiny silver lights,
Dancing in front of my eyes.

They leave a silhouette ,
Something like fog on the windows,
Writing messages for me to see in the winter.

Little codes that can only be deciphered
By frost and ivory.

Miniature regrets I’d only want to read
When feeling sentimental.

Negligible truths that escape the ink and the paper.
Only to reveal themselves late at night
In the arms of familiar strangers.

And they spell out symphonies
Of all the things I should have done
I see the reason of it all
Painted on these faces;
Only to be revealed to me now.

Now that there is so little time.