Thursday, August 4, 2016

For Noirita

Many days have passed , Noirita,
Since you have gone away to the distant land,
Your postcards, sent from that land exotic
Reached me oft delayed, still they reached with pictures of your journeys
To different places there,

Ah those pictures sent had beauty of your days
Spent at the church yard
or at a big square right at the middle of a town,
Or at a fair where you stood before a shop
Buying items of Adornments, a clip, a brooch perhaps , a hairpin,

Then that postcard of the river
And a small bridge right over it,
You standing there, your hands rested on the bar of a bike,
You flashing a smile as shining as a spring morning,

Then that picture of a path through a forest
Turned burning orange by the magic of autumn,
Oaks, old and ancient , standing there
Like big statues, monumental,

Many days have gone away Noirita,
Since you have sent me the last post card,
Perhaps you have forgotten to write
So busy have become your days and nights,

Perhaps you have again fallen
In love,
Perhaps you have made home there
A sweet home with long curtains at windows,
And cosy couches at the living,

Perhaps you have grown a garden there too,
Right in front of your settlement,

Perhaps there had grown beautiful blossoms
To attract the birds and the bees,

But, Noirita,
How can I ever forget
Those bushes and myrtles
Which I have explored
With you in the greenness of our youth.

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