The lights fell on our thick paths,
Waiting for you to cross or at least, I had been courteous for the very first time.
We looked steadily, waiting for who's letting the voice
But your smiles came dropping on the plains,
And that scared the beasts from the aches.
Two it was on the pan, one formed on the plate
The yoke and the oil, matched with soft loaves.
The cutleries cut deep with the art you made.
Maybe I couldn't have had enough,
Until when you picked your bags and bade the hands,
Too early on the Wednesday's dawn to say goodbye.
And I realised you were just our Christmas guests.