When the evening sun has set
more than a thousand times
and when days are as many,
as the grapes upon the vines,
will you remember of me
the good times and the bad?
Thinking pleasant thoughts
but never those when sad.
After all the other lovers
have left before they came,
will you still think about me,
and recall my name?
A Comment by Loy
Beautiful poem MFish...
A Comment by Lucy
such nice poetry...