You and me
on a long and winding road
in a hilly city.
Quietly, uttering no words
naive and carefree
hand in hand we walk
counting power poles.
When tired to move
even a single step
you would say
just one more pole.
Today
all alone
I have returned to our past
the road.
The poles look at me
inquisitively
as if asking about
your whereabouts.
Exhausted from walking
I exert to the next pole
thinking
you were a fast walker.
Perhaps
you are waiting
for me
at the next pole.
…
Ashok K. Bhargava 
It’s beautifully written. :)