Just when I thought of leaving
And time held all memoirs,
I don’t know, but
walking somewhere near
an old flame,
it burns anew..
I’m wondering,
how can it be
that a love written in pencil;
Of a night holding hands
and a friendship twist
still breathing?
However, I must know
I am only standing
right on the other side.
Should you decode,
sometime ago,
I put on your palm
An unassuming heart;
Never thought, never knew
that then, you’re a love
I wrote –
An ever, surviving mark.

Villa Escudero
Villa Escudero

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