The Turn

I turn the turn and look for you

A child looking at a picture riddle,

Eyes searching for the hidden man

And win the coveted prize

The turn where walking fingers locked

We had emerged one day, quietly

From the winding lanes in the green

Knowing suddenly we had to part ways

The turn where you told me to go

Nudging gently, silently coaxing with

A gentle pat on the small of my back

And then stood still till I disappeared

Its is still there, the green, and the lanes 

But the touch in the small of my back

And you; my coveted prize are lost, 

Yet, I turn the turn and look for you.