When the droplets of rain bounce off his umbrella
Onto the lining of his cashmere coat,
He puts his hands into his pocket
And turns towards the lamp post.
Midway down the concrete road,
He takes a moment to trace his steps from the start
The cold and lonely nights
Holding hands with a special someone
He had in mind
The lamp post that has guided him every night
Shows each drop of tear fall into a puddle
but with the company of the early brisk of winter breeze.
His eyes glisten with bittersweet joy
As he takes one last look at the path he took
And with the last leaf fall,
He marches forward