When I turn,
Through the way
Of the bay
Vividly it sparks
Those days
Which has run
Faraway.
But memory walks
On the lane
Like a Golden pen.
Friends increased
Books increased
But nothing Pleased.
Those innocence
Now gives
Unseen Presence.
Those smiles,
That was fragile
Like a dew for a while .
All turned
which can not be
Returned....
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