Once I had a friend called Paul,
One winter Paul left in the fall.
He didn’t mind leaving in the rain,
He said he didn’t want to miss the train.
I watched him fade like wasted years,
He didn’t even look back to see my tears.
As he stepped on the road to walk away
I cried, wishing I could make him stay.
I remembered to ask when, where,
Shall we ever meet again?
But I remembered late and followed after him
In vain!
Later on phone I called his mother,
But she said he hadn’t seen Paul; my brother.
It seems the taxi didn’t make it to the station,
May be something happened so hard to mention.
Poor Paul, why did he have to leave in the rain?
It could have been better if he had missed the train.
