Walk past, the lanes..

Memories occur,

Days of inclination rub;

When in her smile, her eyes, that stare,

Jubilance and affection do club.

A little bit of anger,

Buzzed the air, with rendition;

An effect, ever so tinger,

When I remember, our unison.

Such perfect, star liked day;

Had it been;

Her love, I had but all seen.

While our walk was in an array,

We gossiped, talked and passed, in beam,

Through the wintery days.

Emotions sing,

Rolls the sadness, all grey.

Freshness insights in another ring,

Oh, how pleasant was that day.

Reminiscence yet again, presumes;

It shall go about this way,

Oh, this is what I have got, to say.

When those sights, over-rule.

Dreams were august,

Made into a foray of charm.

Now, that she's no longer with;

Life isn't that royal and warm.

In all those days,

I did wait;

Not to let go, but trace,

For her presence, did I crate.

Albeit, had I taken afoot;

Still, I couldn't match my girl,

She walked far away now, stood;

I waitest for her realm.

For the days of magic,

The days, of terrain;

Won't come back, with a wick,

I have to draw a mere portrait.

As I go about, becoming a mimmic,

To those poetries of lanes.