Turning To Memory Lane
An old wrinkled paper
Lying on the table
Coffee by its side
A scented candle's fire,
A vintage calligraphy pen,
A lit up fire place.
The melodious sound of rain drops
Touching the ground like tiny pearls
An old town image
Countless memories roaming around
Like delicate butterflies
Singing the classical songs
Remembering the happy faces,
The silly friends,
The ancient buildings,
The outdated stamp collection.
Writing the remote letters again
Waiting for the pigeons to fly
And those times to return
Like a fulfilled fantasy
Like a dream come true.
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