To The Soothing Zephyr
A wanderer never stops, always summons his way,
The thing he only notices― how the leaves sway.
The journey seems unending; and it has to be made,
Somewhere, he has to reach; before the paths fade.
So, he buries the tears.
The memories he fears.
But a face in his mind, refuses to stay behind.
Some day, the face will find him; satiate him with desire.