I know
"Bliss was in that dawn to be alive, But to be With You was very heaven." I looked at him and laughed, How easily he managed to make me a fool in love by just changing a word ' With You' "Wordsworth wrote it beautifully, But I love yours more" I said, "I know" he laughed, We sat on that half broken bridge as he read from my favourite poetry book, He carefully picked up the poems I loved, But little did he know that every poem he read will be my favourite, He never completed any poem, he always left it half way, "Ain't endings the most beautiful part?" I asked him one day, He smiled and told me, "Never" And was it why you left without saying anything? I wonder, Today after all these years, I took my book of poetry again and completed the poem you left that day, "Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her." I smiled, how ironic... I smiled, Neruda lied. ...