When the time came to leave I thought, surely she will stop me, make one last attempt to turn me back.
Between the two of us stretched an ocean's distance; yet again and again I felt, if only she had said once, won't you stay!
Her hand stirring just a little— seeing this, faint hope flickered in me, perhaps she'll call me back with a gesture!
No, she did not call me. Not once did she ask me to wait. She never asked me to stay, not at all.
That I was leaving only to return— she couldn't understand this, I refuse to believe.
No, she did not call me back. I walked forward. Very slowly...gradually the distance became an ocean, separation grew sharper.
Even today I wait for a call from behind... to return.
Even near death a person waits once more to live.