As I walk in a street one day at dusk
I hear someone call, a voice so familiar yes.
I turn around to look behind
My eyes roam all over, to find none.
Still, my heart is convinced, it was her
She would certainly come to me sooner or later.

In memory’s vaults the elapsed uncounted days shine,
Turns to sweet visions in the dreaming brain
Long will be my heart with those memories filled
Like a vase in which roses had once been distilled.
She may break she may shatter the vase at will
But the scent of the roses will hang around still.