Joy : not yet, but still

~\》

I long for her

Down the shining sun

I look for her warmth

And it makes me burn

I miss her

Under the falling rain

And remind me of the drops

They ran down her cheek

And it makes me cry

The bitter sweet scent of leaves

Takes me back to the time

When the rain, the sun, the leaves

felt good

And now,

With her lies my joy

And I am in a void

But atleast that makes her well

Perhaps,

I ain't happy, yet am.