Today I walked the same old path, for which I have lost counts of the number of times I visited ever since you disappeared.
I went to the same old places we've been to. The path through the woods seems obscured and outgrown with hedges although I still remember every length and breath of it. The woods have barely changed and the sounds of the birds chirping are ever so soothing as they used to when you were here. Here I sit on the same old rock covered in moss where we sing to ourselves and gaze out to the waters. Everything seems as usual except that, your presence was not there as I thought.
Each time I hear the the hushing sounds of the leaves or the whistling sounds of the winds on the tree tops, I wonder if that was you coming to peek at me. The woods seems to know me so well now and are familiar with my every visit, and though they tried but they could not console me. They offer their dark recess to swallow up my grief and leave me a light heart, but with each effort, I seem to sink further into oblivion: lost in thoughts of why I have to live in this world and suffer the pain of your absence.
If you left a word, I'd be consoled. But you left as quiet as a shadow, with no sign to give me a lead. If only I could walk this path with you one more time again ...