The narrow lanes of love
wind through neighbourhoods
I do not know.
They follow the ancient
Paths of long dead
Lovers. The notorious rain
Falls on their heads.
I have a map no one
Understands when I ask
For directions. They know
The place and point the way
But I never find it no matter
How far I drive and how
Long I travel. And then I
Wonder if they really
Knew or were they thinking of
Somewhere else they thought
Were the lanes of love
But existed only in their
Memories.
I have stopped seeking
It is too late to look for
Them now. The sun is setting
Soon it will be dark and the streets
Will turn cold. The warmth of home
Beckons and I turn my back on
The unknown streets of desire.
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