People
People, they come and they go,
some like air, can only be felt,
some like thunderstorms, overwhelming,
some like flowers, we pick them up when we like them,
some like November Rain, always unexpected,
some like presents on a Christmas morning,
some like the treasures at the end of another rainbow,
some like watermelons on a summer afternoon,
and then, people, all of them are like strings,
they may leave us but they live with us, in memory,
in our hobbies, in our habits, in our mornings and afternoons, in our evenings and nights, in our Mondays and Sundays,
in our tears and laughter, in us,
cause in us lives a part of us that they have given us.
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