The dusty road of nostalgia..

Footsteps down a dusty road,

The one I walked so many times before.

Smiling at the surge of nostalgia,

I happened to walk right into your door.

It is strange how soon I thought I forgot,

What my feet even yet hadn't.

I wish I could say that I have changed,

But the truth is that I haven't.

Yes, you were mean and your heart is cold,

And you have done awful things to me.

But love has always been my middle name,

And forgiveness is hence, easy.

And so back on that street,

In front of your place,

I stood staring at your door.

While my hands found a way,

To lift and knock,

My eyes were still locked to the floor.

When they finally rose,

My eyes- they met.

A totally different face.

You weren't there,

You had gone,

Away from that old place.

A piece of me was happy,

At not having to see you at that spot.

Another was sad for the same reason,

And a piece said- at least I tried while you had not.

Footsteps down the same dusty road,

The very one I had walked so many times before.

Thinking of what I would have said,

If you had been there on the other side of the door.

Five minutes of your time, is all I ask,

For old  time's sake, if you please.

There is something on my mind that I want to say,

And then, I'll leave you in peace.

Leaving a wound open rots it,

Its not what anyone would do.

And so is the abyss in our relation, friend,

It's an old remedy, nothing new.

Before the lights had dimmed out,

Before the raged cacophony.

I remember a ring of laughter,

A lot of trust and harmony.

I will remember you as smile I wore,

Ages and ages ago.

The pain and the hurt were a nightmare,

I have forgotten and so should you.

Saying so I would have turned and walked

On that nostalgic dusty road.

Walking away for once and for all

From you and from your door.