But the love

It doesn’t grow so old even after long

That it should be forgotten _ it’s not a tale

Whenever you think about it

It bears new taste

New attraction

If it be the time of togetherness

Or be the desert of departure

Holding you in her arms

It stands there as well as there too

It’s a strange sort of lightning

Yea, it’s a story but not a story

It’s old but even then, too young