I think of her every now and then
I remember her and I pick up a pen
To write my thoughts before they fade
To express my feelings truly made
Time heals all wounds or so I thought
It pains and It weeps, filled with wrought
Reliving, not the sad moments of the years
But nostalgia about the happy tears
You pick up the pieces and walk ahead
only to find another piece you shed
A piece of the heart that broke
With one syllable she spoke
You walk ahead and then look back
the trail you made on the beaten track
you look ahead and the trail goes on
meandering and whimsy, forever on.
