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A large poppy fieldI will not insult you by trying to tell you that one day you will forget. I know as well as you that you will not.
But, at least, in time you will not remember as fiercely as you do now - and I pray that that time may be soon.

Music

Music - Percy Bysshe Shelley

Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory-
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.

Percy Bysshe Shelley


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