Those memories of the days old,
sweet glances and words from heart,
are those no one can forget.
Come to me friend precious then gold,
in tears of the day we do part,
treasure the memories when we met.
In dawn we have plucked flowers,
and the fragrance we felt as only ours.
Come to me friend, of the days old,
and rest forever in lover's warm fold.
Prasenjit©1997-2012
No comments:
Post a Comment