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butterflies Singing the classical songs Remembering the happy faces, The silly friends, The ancient buildings, The outdated stamp collection.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.