I often ask myself,
Where are the dusts of forever in my shelf?
What defines the end and the beginning?
In which is confined its meaning?
Is forever the life of the fly for it?
A minute for which it is lived?
Or does it lie in the spread of this sky?
Has it always been this blue and white?
If it started from the eves apple,
And ends in the doomsday maple,
Where in it do i lie?
Where in it do you lie?
Sometimes i think it lies in your smile,
Sometimes in that extra mile,
Through which i walked alone,
In search of happiness which you home.
Whenever comes the boundary of always,
Wherever the desert meets the ocean waves,
If you stop and look back ever,
I will be there,waiting,forever.