But who knew it was the last time…

I’ll come home mother…

This time I will take you with me…

All the dreams I had when I left…

Look closer to reality….

And I have friends here….

Cherished few who really care…

But the warmth that I seek, on nights like these….

I need a blanket, one with your arms wreathe..

And then all my fears would vanish

And all worries would sublime…

Hard days lost in an abundant sunshine…..

And those were his last lines….

But who knew it was the last time…

Twelve years to date….

The reality she still can’t face….

She doesn’t believe he is gone…

And will return home with the same old song…

Ohh yes…He was a painter, a singer, a one-man show…

A carnival wherever he would go…

But he left the small town…

For fame in the cities abound….

And he would paint with strokes so fine…

Like a tribute to all thats divine….

Known as the piper of the alpines….

Who didn’t know that it would be the last time…

And they buried him on the hills….

There he belonged… an empty space to fill…

There he would write and compose…

Ohh those lines fresh as the evergreen rose…

But she can’t read his diary again…

Though she keeps it by her bed in disdain…

Waiting for him to read them to her….

For everything to be same like it was before…

He told her he was coming back for everything he left behind…..

He told her she wouldn’t have to wait past nine….

Minutes turned into hours, no news for days malign….

And who knew it was the last time….

Ohh…Its such a waste… Why in such a haste?

She sent him away..

Yes she regrets sending him away…

But how could she stop him?

It was his dream.. his passion… the life of his soul….

His art, his work, the pieces to behold..

And yet again another what-if story to be told…

Wonder if someone could see it coming?

Wonder what he thought right before leaving?

And he was so blind…

Didn’t know that the future would be unkind….

The ending of a thought benign….

But who knew that it was the last time…

And she doesn’t believe it was the last time….