LEMON SOUL

Found an old book while dusting. I opened it only to find a name. Of the long-lost friend who had gifted it to me. Whiling away time with straying thoughts empty sighs kicking dusts of memories reaching an aimless dead end. I remember we never held hands. But we knew our worlds were entwined to meet at the end of this road. There were long arguments and immediate agreements. We would laugh encore to our silly selves. I know I have lost you. And it pains endlessly. But I need to keep this pain; this pain feeds my lemon soul. From it perhaps comes my poetry.