Buttercups under the flamboyant trees beside the lake

The old ferryman waits at the river bank
for passengers?
But only one he sees
A lass with a cane basket,
Who believes that his old fiancee's
eldest daughter?
In this off season no more buttercups
But the old flamboyant trees still stand
They only know their past friendship.
Though he grips the oars well
Yet he couldn't hold the ancient faded love?

[One does not pour new wine into old skins.]-Jesus

nimal dunuhinga