Her first sight, first glance, was like a shock. And I was still there, as statue, like a rock

The spiritual days with her, were much pleasant Her accord was there; in thoughts, little bit talk

Her series of memories has a long chain And I can recall them with any place on clock

But time has gone, like waves of shores And I downstairs from past, with desperate walk

Today, there is no gay, even in a milky way Thinking with grief, is it true, or was it mock?