Café and Bouquet

The world cries out to me all day,
To forget the people that have left me alone,
I cry back to the world and say,
Whatever they have done, they have to me the way shown,
Then it laughs out loud and laughs again,
And bewildered when I look at it,
Ask me to tell it my loss and my gain,
And unable to tell it, I am in a fit.
Then it clutches my hand, on to it tight,
And though I have always hated it,
Takes me out to the torturing light,
And tells me to continuously stare at it.
Then when I see it shining on raw hay,
I am reminded of the bouquet,
The bouquet I bought for my lady that day,
When we were seated at the café.
And even now I go to the places where we,
Used to sit together watching the sea.
The sand which we sat still hold the temple,
We made with our hands, and they still tell,
They cry for you, I don’t know why,
The chairs have become cold and dry,
Where we sat together each evening and day,
That park still lies on my way.
And when I sit there the wind about you asks,
It recognizes me under all my masks,
The masks I wore since you left me,
Of happiness to show everyone that we,
That we are happy as happy as can be.
But deep in my heart, my soul cries all day,
To bring back the days of the café and bouquet.

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