Your letters, yellowed with time
Are
Now a brittle trellis carved
By silverfish;
Singed hearts they paint,
Aflame with ochred love,
They are.
Can they capture gaps filling eons?
Or test the hardy vine-like
Chords that bind hearts, cleft in twain?
****
Since time blurs gaze
Words of love pale
Like slow dying embers
That kindled the depths
Of fiery ardors that lie unknown.
****
As Love’s fragrance
Is lost in time,
To the disinterested eye
Insipid, the letters seem,
Like coffee
Turning cold and muddy.
Vile lies, these letters seem
Just another bunch of lies
Ah! Lies.
Yes, Time’s busy weaving
The warp and weft of lies.
****
Yet, none witnesses
The lovers’ unabated sighs!
Each fired by
An imprisoned moment
That’s Time’s captive.
Your breath when snuffed,
Buckles to Time’s sickle,
Failing to kindle
The last ember.
Then , O Reader!
How can the filigreed
Letter comfort, a broken-heart me,
Who’s beyond repair!
*******
Mumtaz N. K.
22-10-2020
Picture courtesy: YAY Images
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