It isn't time that passing by,
It's you and I,
It's you and I.

From the hills of mussorie to the evergreen trees,
And the beautiful daffodils that dance in the summer breeze,
From the spirits of the undying dead that walk around in haste,
And all of the wind's screams that go to waste,

I know an old man in landour who saw and heard it all,
From the whispering winds to the rains that fall,
And my eyes tear up, My throat tightens and I cry,
Whenever I realise,
It isn't time passing by,
Its you and I.

In high esteem and love will your name shall I hold,
But more so your touch remember these valleys, hills and streams that have gotten so old,
And in the winds your echo too shall ring,
An everlasting song the breeze shall sing,

And whenever a poet's pen on his paper shall lie,
His lips too shall smile and release a pensive sigh,
Remembering and realising,
It isn't time that's passing by,
It's you and I,
It's you and I.

Dedicated to my hero : Ruskin Bond.