We didn’t start our journey together,
Our paths just crossed one day.
Looking at that weathered calendar,
Was it June or April or May?
Yet we made a promise to walk down further,
For as long as our promise would last.
Even if the road ahead is cluttered,
Or bellowing with torrents of dust.
Our promise could be two seconds,
A minute, two months or a year.
It really does not matter,
For we will charge on without fear.
When the day arrives and we grow old,
Our limbs turn weak and our books grow mould.
I will squint and peer holding my reading glasses,
Looking for you, among the masses.
When I get too weak, to walk this path,
Promise me you wouldn’t laugh.
Walk on baby, to the luscious meadow,
I’m just a little tired, let me sleep in your shadow.
Never look back and just keep moving,
Even if you sense that my soul is leaving.
And please my baby, do not shed a tear,
As I whisper goodbye to you my dear.
Now you walk this path, alone once more,
Just like that June or April or May, just like before.
