Diary of
My good memories
Has cherished,
Of your presence,
Of your beauty.

Where proudly
Characters and symbols
Of tenderness,
Bathed in your fragrance,
Stand and smile.

And do breathe
The aroma of the rose,
That you gave me
With the promise,
To never distance
apart.

Words
Those were written
With pen in
That diary,
Are
Now more tore,
More spread,
And emotions
That I wrote
With a pencil
Are little fade,
Little sheared.

I read that page
Even today also,
With same attention
And pleasure,
In which,
I described
"You in that
Pretty gown".

And I visit those
Very rare,
In which we fought
Rather.

I find your memories
Evoked
Every night,
I see them
Alive
And brighter
Walking
Either,
when I turn
Leafs
one
by one
Just to see,
Under 
My lamp's light.