Of some I have managed to let go
But some linger on in blood and sinew
Ever crisp like the morning dew
Time is the best healer they say
And all the memories will turn gray
I don't know if it's a bane or a boon?
What we had is gone to soon
The World through the eyes of an Artist...
Where everything would be laughed off in squeals of laughter
Where complaints about each other would be narrated in poetry
Where there would be an underlying urge to only be with each other at nightfall
Where the journey to self-discovery would begin by holding each other’s hand
Where satisfaction and completion would stem from just being in each other’s lives
Where we would live in a cute little white house
Where friends would come to have a comforting cuppa tea
Where weekends would be reserved for each other, with each other
Where these dreams would see the light of day