last month, I woke up in the middle of the night
with my name blurred from my memory
but there was a soft whisper
burnt into my mind that calmed me down

last week, I woke up in the middle of a dream
with no sense of touch on my skin
but there was a strange taste on my tongue
that I knew I had savoured before

last night, I woke up in the middle of a town
with no recalled directions of reaching there
but there was a flow of wind that took me
through the wide roads and empty parks

the whisper was your voice
the taste was of your lips
the flow of wind was my muscle memory
all of it were the traces you left behind

because the truth is,
if i ever get lost,
I'll always know how to find my way
back to you