The voice still rings in my ears,
the rawness, the black and white background with the guitar,
making a delicious sound!

The love for music, food and books,
turned towards laughter, words and looks
Slowly and gradually, the little seed of trust,
became a woody tree, brown till crust,
the soft foundation grew stronger like hay,
till a dark and rainy storm came up one day!

The shadowy storm could not move the strong rigid tree,
but the roots were loosened, the mud got free..
and slowly and gradually, the tree did rot,
one tried to water, while the other simply chopped!

Oh! the tree shed leaves, like the eyes shed tears, while one tried hard, the other simply gave up.

The mutual tree of trust was no more.
One shed tears, the other was just bored.

Now, the tree isn't there,
but the voice still rings,
the place where the magic begins..
Its just a matter of time, they say,
But I lost my all,
only left is the memory of clay...
© Lavanya Shree