Once again I visited the place. My desperate want leading me inside. I had to go there someday eventually. and I let out a tired sigh. I bet you remember it all. That I know and remember it like the back of my hand. The place I once had and recalled. Back then, I had planted flowerpots. The hearth would burn merrily in one corner. The windows always welcomed sunlight, warm and hot, All I see now is defenseless baricades and dead flowers. Although neither you nor anybody else could fix it. I'm sure and quietly remorce for our loss. There's nothing I could have done about it. The walls standing could as well have loads of moss Those winds by which the house got ventilation, only pull each of its parts down, Groans of other pains and pent up imotions, Once and forever, never to return, I get out.