Stringed by a Decade

Living in collusion with the logics of life,
I've still had moments of a vagabond and his penchant for mirages.
That streak of my drifter existence soon became the me once
I found you floating like a seagull lost in its own seas.
You asked me questions, the answers of which were written on your face.
I looked at you and read the lines;
A decade old, they were still virgin, like a bottle of wine forgotten in the cellar.
I wiped them in my narration and uncovered a teardrop.
Is it also waiting to be shed, I asked.
Smiling through your eye's moist haze
You guided me to the happiness of my own tears.