There is this postcard. A postcard worth a pound or two.
It has a picture in black and white. The picture so pretty, a colourful quilt of moments long gone by. Its handwritten on the other side, by a beloved, long lost friend. The writing so familiar, evokes a million memories, in every slant and sway.
It's lost somewhere, this postcard. Can you help me find it? The postcard with the picture and the handwriting. One that brings with it, a time when friendship was love. A time, when nights were incomplete without long conversations. A time, without unanswered questions and unquestioned answers . A time, when you and I were we.
There is this postcard. A postcard thats priceless.
I think it's lost in time. Lost in the space between you and me.
It has a picture in black and white. The picture so pretty, a colourful quilt of moments long gone by. Its handwritten on the other side, by a beloved, long lost friend. The writing so familiar, evokes a million memories, in every slant and sway.
It's lost somewhere, this postcard. Can you help me find it? The postcard with the picture and the handwriting. One that brings with it, a time when friendship was love. A time, when nights were incomplete without long conversations. A time, without unanswered questions and unquestioned answers . A time, when you and I were we.
There is this postcard. A postcard thats priceless.
I think it's lost in time. Lost in the space between you and me.
