Until your hair grows grey and until I am no more,
the silence remains for the wound is now sore.
Song is still unsung and the music is lost,
in the whirlwind of reasons that were cast.
And when many a autumn and many a winter, I surpassed
and left many a spring and summers for you to see
And When the dusk will draw close for you, as
As for me the sun already went to sleep.
In those lovely lonely evenings, you in the arm chair, ruffling through the pages…..
….It is then
When….I’ll come back
I’ll come back to see your sparkling eyes and as a breeze to sway those ‘grey’ hairs,
I’ll come back to feel your laughter, that by each passing day is more livelier, I must feel.
Yet you will see me in the setting sun
Yet you will see me in falling leaves
and you will see me in dying spring
Even, in waving autumn you will see me
And with those untimely remembrance and those fading memories
A drop shall fall on the book, the ink shall fade and the letters will vanish
Another will fall on the ground, shall succumb with the dust
and I’ll come back again……..when your hair will grow grey and when I’ll be no more.