The old man with his walking stick
Descended down the hill,
With a handful of flowers
And a greeting in his hand.

As he took a stroll across the valley,
He was reminded of the time he had left behind,
In midst of this market’s hurry back then
He had met her for the very first time.

With a small smile on his face,
He moved ahead to find the altar
Where he along with her, made their vows
To be together forever and ever.

The memory had made his eyes turn moist
As he holds on to the wedding ring on his hand,
He loved her like no other
And now he was all lost like no other.

Walking past the gates of the cemetery
Till he reached the stone in the green corner,
Placing the flowers and the greeting,
He wished “Happy Anniversary, sweetheart”.


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