the greatest gift...

Holding a copy of the book freshly printed and bound and delivered right at her doorstep,
one morning by the courier boy,
She turned amazed and speechless for a while...
Then she softly turned the cover page
As if she was running her nimble fingers on a new born baby,
And came to the dedication page;

On the page was written:
'Dear, I tried actually to write a love song for you...
But, it was so pervasive kind of heightened passion
That I wrote and wrote...
And it became a novel...
Sorry for presenting such a cumbersome kind of love, expressed in so many pages...
But as I believe my love is true and good,
Benign and deep,
Light and flared-up,
Beautiful and sublime,
Flavoury and unsavoured hitherto by any mortal, (barring a few, of course!)
I believe you'll just fall in love with the gift...
And keep it close to your ravaged heart;

I believe you will be the book yourself, just like me!
You'll be true and good like love itself...'

Reading the lines again and again,
She just wept...
As a child weeps in joy...
As a daughter weeps for her distant father,
As a son weeps for his long lost mother...

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