Gone

Looking back, the tress seems taller than they do now. Perhaps I had grown up. Or perhaps it is only a perspective. Perhaps, and it only left perhaps.

I saw her face. Still the same doe-eyes. Still the same oval face. Still the same round lips.

The sun ray still blast through the gaps of leaves, the leaves that formed the roof. She looks at me, smiling. I smile back.

Only, it is not her, but an illusion of her. “She” who had stop growing years ago. “She” who had left. By circumstances, “she” had gone.

And gone she did, left me in a daze. And gone she did, left, will never return.

So many words left unsaid. So many stories left untold. So many, so many, left, I know, unknown.