The zigzag path
Leading to the hill side
Where you saved me that day.
As I was
On the verge of a slide.
A lone dry lane
Without you and me
Holding hands under the rain!
It is the place
Where we parted last day.
The meadows, green
With grasses of teen days’ touch
Have grown older and thorny.
The bird’s chirp with
A touch of dry, dark, agony.
The stones that chalk marked
Our erotic smile and laughter
Appear to have faded
Into a hollow soul-less slumber.
It is still there, like
A Sand less desert of pain
Soaking all the tears of youth
And smokes of memories burn
In the fire of days by gone.