Leaves here and there
the white blank canvas,
As your silhouette vanishes
in the heavy dense fog
that only makes way for the light from the lanterns.
And I stare at the blankness
In the direction that holds my eye
For so long that I no longer know
which path you came and where you went.
The “not-knowing” gives me hope
That this mist holds an essence of you,
It holds a promise of you.
Promise that you have come back
That you never went,
that you were always here
Its just me that lost her way.
And for ages the promise was kept
for you came back each time.