Walking Away

The times spent well,
The jingling of the bell,
The grasses filled with dew,
Moments more than few.

The stories remain buried deep,
Close, I shall always keep.
Waiting for the Fate to turn,
Nothing else can cure the burn,

Apart from my mind, I tear,
Robe of indifference, I wear.
The thoughts make me mad,
To think them, is bad.

But still to the memories I hold,
Though, to let go, I’m told.
With a faint tinge of hope,
The present pain I cope.

As I take a walk long,
My griefs, wrapped in song,
Those, no one will know,
My heart, as cold as snow.

Slowly with the passing tide,
All the secrets which I hide,
Will flow down the time’s drain,
And flushed out, from my brain.

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