On this same place,
Once you were there;
But why am I here?
We used to be like this prior;
It’s a place of thoughts,
Of precious musical notes;
Those sinks of footsteps,
Sometimes far, sometimes near;
Slow and steady moves,
Tumbled sometimes fiercely;
Blushing face with smiles,
Staring here and staring there;
This place is a replica,
A record of our memoirs;
Look now you are not here,
But What I doing here?
