When...

When…

When the life will be on the edge of shroud,

You will remember me like a cool breeze in sun.

When your alley is empty of the lover’s crowd,

Curtains are closed and light is done.

While your cane will fall off on the floor,

You will wish if I could hold you in my arm.

As blood will be busy for you to adore,

And hot fire of age would have cooled to warm.

When you will approach the window and see snow falling,

You will remember me falling for you.

You will remember your manner of stalling,

Every breath of mine and the spring too.

Then you will see the true face of the floor,

Then you will come up with a new story;

There were you ageless for me to adore

And my marks on your way were your glory.

But listen my leaf don’t you sigh,

I am then residing in your soul.

Don’t then think the wind has passed by,

Every season is the result of our creole.

Written by Waqar Farooq

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