Old School

#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.