What was and What is

I have her in front of my eyes.
But still my eyes, in ambush, cries.
Because repeated trials of beholding her,
end in nothing else but unsuccessful tries.

What was and what is;
six years have made a dichotomy out of these.
Thought, I could hold her hand eternally then,
but the hold loosened because of an untimely breeze.

Cherished those moments when she was there.
I along with her were an inseparable pair.
The emotions were her, the expressions, mine.
Everywhere it was green, none of it bare.

I walk alone now with the horizon in sight.
A heart full of mixed emotions, I desperately fight.
To move ahead with time or hold it back;
as my search for her, still doesn't have the cover of the night.

I had wanted to paint my canvas with the colours of her dreams and care.
But still the canvas stands white with a shade very rare.
The brushes are still anew, as I tendered them since,
for my resolve to infuse life into it is still alive in my prayer.

I must and I will,
voids of her absence, fill.
Rest I will not before I enact the script,
of shared dreams and a shared will.