On a lonesome path, That I tread everyday,
Seeking company, looking for solace,
Those lost friends, the departing hands,
A smile holds me back…
I remember the day,
When both of us smiled,
Felt so gay, the hue was the prize,
And now when the pal is gone,
That very smile acts as my beloved song…
Across the stream,
Looking at my my own image in the water,
I ponder at the algae that is layered,
Weren’t those the same,
Upon which we slipped and smiled…
The bridge that we crossed…
over the stream, has now been broken,
the present and the past has been separated
Can’t go back in time,
Can’t reach the past to be with you, can I?
I ask, oh my dear friend,
Will you please build the bridge,
So that we survive as friends,
Will you please give me a gift…
A gift of a bridge, nothing more
For on the bridge,
I shall come,
We shall remember the songs
and sing them together,
Then enliven our friendship forever and ever…
Writing with a purpose 