#PoetryParlour #AZatPP# day15#O
Old School
My love,
I prefer to touch and feel,
Your love filled, racing heart,
With my own hands,
Than to attend your long distant calls,
From faraway lands.
.
Dearest,
I prefer to read your letters,
Which may have errors in spelling,
And is a testimony,
Of your poor vocabulary,
Than reading your auto correct,
Spell checked, clean handwriting,
Electronic mails,
Which reads bizarredly formal,
And as such grossly inappropriate,
In matter of feelings.
.
My life,
I prefer those old joints,
Where amidst commotion,
We still remain drunken,
By tasting the magic potion,
Called love,
Than to meet in a proper restaurant,
With champagne in our table,
And an uniformed butler,
Hovering above.
.
That’s because my love,
Your touch, your handwritten words,
Or your presence,
Reveals the real you.
Like a speech impromptu.
Forgive me, my love,
If I sound like an emotional fool,
For in matters of heart,
I am still old school.
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