Tomorrow you find me nowhere.
Come, and see the desolation!
The four white walls will breath our smell, And the cot where we sit side by side and Caress your cascading hair and talk many wonders lie empty now.
I will be gone far far away, and never meet again.
But you come and alone walk the path of Old days of milk and honey.
Come and weep, and when warm tears Glide your sunken cheeks, eye , my dear,
The old landscape painting we so admire.
Believe me, it was not my fault
Nor yours. Forget me , but not forget
The misty morn, and the cool evening, and
The deserted path we walked hand in hand.
And forget not the rustle of the dry leaves, and the mimic of the whistling birds.
@abusiddik 6th Sept, 2018.