I didn't quite remember

the last day he

came to me and called

A slight silent goodbye.

However,

I remembered I looked back

at the end of the road:

The bright splashes of sun

through the netted olive sheets;

A coo of a late bird

behind the brown-green play of morning veils;

The wind gusted from the dust-blowing cars

past me.

The sky witnessed a bright smile on either side,

And a gentle wave at me-

a promise of meeting yet again.

Honking buses now roll on,

as the road runs crazily crowded.

I've forgotten the smell of the known corridor.

But I kept his handwritten study notes,

safely inside my book-

The curtains swoosh,

as I realized nine years have passed by.

The cars still run on this road,

Blowing dust, messing my hair.

Some get in, some get off,

Some run, while some slip away.

Goodbye, goodbye!

Into the heart's crushing silence.

The first cry of nostalgia

Down the same road washed by the same sunshine.

Where the birds flap into the longing green

Out of the dark tunnel.

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