Memories

Memories
How hard it is to depart,
Seeing her breathing her last,
someone whom you were a part,
In moments becomes your past,
hoping she recovers and go home,
from that dreadful deadly ailing,
How painful it is to, about, roam,
To get the divine favor and failing,
Feeling every night she calls,
sensing her soft hand on your shoulder,
making the eyes shed and the heart falls,
makes, this rain, the face colder,
But, yet o dear you live and will be there,
In my heart, to free it from every fear,

Jahanzeb

poem by Jahan zaib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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