Writing this to tell you plain
Yesterday received by the evening mail
That picture postcard of your snow covered lane...
And watched with particular interest
How on your window rest
White snow flakes...
And how the neon lamps spread
A festive touch on trees...
And probably the misty breeze
In a hushed up tone
Wake you up in a leisurely halved up morn...
Then I think you thought of me
Sipping from the warm cup your first green tea...
And sent that postcard so perfect
Though I received it quite late...
Your halved morn must have lost in crowd...
Your calender now surely got noisy and loud...
But now that I receive it
I can easily travel to your not awakened street...
I can see you there engaged...
Visible partially through the white curtain
Your engrossed self I could get...
Monday, June 18, 2012
Upon receipt of your picture postcard...
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