I know it's been a long time, since I last saw you.
My touch on your skin is probably been washed away.
A hundred times.
Maybe your hair don't curl like they did
around my fingers earlier.
Your voice may not be sounding the same.
It has deepened over all these years; I guess.
Maybe you don't even look or smell the same.
Or you probably still do. I've honestly got no idea.
For a lot has changed.
But midst all of this remakes of our own selves,
I hope my name still ignites a fire within you.
Just like yours does in me.