Lost

You can't see her. She sees you, watches you.
You cross the busy road carelessly, you don't care for safety
Your friends rebuke you for being careless
But she finds you to be carefree.
Free of any fear, unwanting of any care
How happy you are. How untouched by pain
The afternoon breeze ruffles your unkempt hair
You turn to face the breeze and sniff the air
The breeze carries with it a familiar scent, of perfume
You smell of her, as if she were standing nearby
You try to look for her in the crowd with your eyes closed.
You search for her with those old eyes of forgotten years.
But only a teardrop rolls down your scarred cheek,
Sparkling like a diamond as it catches a ray of the afternoon sun.
You can't see her, oh how she shudders to see you cry.
You deftly manage to wipe away your tear,
while managing the disobedient tresses falling on your carefree face.
She wonders if that's the way you fight all your problems,
Just the way you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ears.
She loves the way you beat up the dust while you hop across the park,
You seem oblivious to anybody coming in your path,
In the rush to get to your favourite bench facing the lake.
She swerves past you to avoid collision. You don't notice her.
Perhaps she likes to be left unnoticed, to be left forgotten.
You find your favourite bench without any trouble, still unoccupied.
You keep your walking stick on the bench to stop anyone from sitting beside you.
You miss those days you came down with her to this very place.
You remember her sitting beside you as you enjoyed looking at setting sun,
The little waves lapping against the lakeshore, and reflecting the sun like a thousand floating mirrors.
You can still hear the gentle waves, the rustle of leaves, the children playing on the shore.
But you face down as you cannot see all these anymore.
You open your shoes and let the blades of grass tingle your feet.
You remember her holding your hand as you fed the swans at the edge of the lake.
It seems millions of years ago, and you want to see her again.
But you can't see that she is sitting on the bench right behind you.
Oh how she wishes to walk up to you and embrace you,
To hold your face between her palms and look deep into your eyes and say...
"Darling, I wish we could enjoy watching the setting sun together again".
She weeps silently, feeling helpless, hopeless. For being unable to help him.
You stand up, take the walking stick lying on the bench and unfold it.
You put on the black shaded goggles and start walking back, knocking your stick before you.
You stop suddenly as you cross the bench behind you and tap on the handles with your stick.
You sigh and say, "Darling I can hear you sobbing from a mile,
I can smell you when you are around. I know you feel guilty for having left me.
But you cannot return my sight. You cannot marry a poor, blind man dear. I have forgiven you.
And I am proud to have sacrificed my sight while defending my country.
I can live forever with the memories of the moments we shared before the war." 
She cries uncontrollably, unable to acknowledge her pain,
Unable to acknowledge her love for him, for she was the wife of another now.
She quietly slips a letter typed in Braille into his hand and leaves.
You run your coarse fingers across and read it. You tremble and call out her name.
But she has long left. He let the letter slip away from his hand, breaking down.
The letter from the warfront mistakenly declared him killed in action.