It rained heavily

before I met her and

             continued raining

after she left, forever 

as if the footprints

slipped of while pocketing

a personality

 when the pagination turned over.

There was a night

where she mingled

in the ink blotted darkness

as nothingness came over

of a being

when forest sizzled the first rain

year retrieved to another .

I always meet myself in a forest,

quite lost

in  an unusual aroma

in a circular way.

in thickets and bushes,

in the smell of green leaves

I met her once

when she let her into the forest.

again,

after the suddenness locked 

fiftieth page,

a little before the book was  closed .

I met her once

In the second chapter

In the first paragraph

 of a book

Thereafter, she left.

and left her beauties

and left me a silence

left me in mystic fog

if not  mist

for the words were  not visible

for the world was invisible

when my right hand

swept some words

thick and dense, paged

in side

of being lost and found

to loose her once again.

left me in mystic fog

if not  mist

of a possible ambiguity.

All of them refused to love her

Friends, teachers

and later my beloved

yet, I loved her

unknown to my reasons

there fell off

there I sensed my lost

in the book along with its pages

where she couldn’t cry out again.