Only if the stars knew to glitter like her eyes,
Only if the breeze knew to hold him tight in arms like hers,
Only if the sun knew to give him the warmth like her subtle breaths,
Only if the water knew to run through his hair like her fingers,
Only if the night sky knew to weave untold stories like her lips,
he would let her leave.
Her name is scratched down on the grave in cursive font,
And a much deeper impression is on his soul,
He walks holding hands with her in the water waves, still,
Her eyes are kissed by him, today too, every morning,
Under the dim moonlight, they talk about uncanny mysteries,
She isn't deceased,
Because he has kept her alive in his thoughts,
Disregarding the laws of mortality,
She exists in him, in every part of his.
At 23, they met at 123, Baker street,
At 60 today, they continue to meet in the cemetery.