A letter lay on the desk
frayed, with a think layer of dust
What lay inside?
mystery, a letter forgotten.
A love letter, filled with words of passion?
A letter scattered with rumors, gossip spilling out?
A message of well being, warm wishes?
A letter of criticism, written by one seeking an argument?
Or a warm note by an old friend, waiting to hear from his childhood companion?
But it mattered not what lay inside any longer.
For time had passed too quickly
the senders long gone...
A love, news, wishes, an argument, a good friend
forever lost...
If the letter had been opened,
what it might have bought?
no one knows...
3 comments:
it's good
one can decipher so many things from a handwritten letter...
quick, bold strokes, show the anger and hurry with which the writer penned those words...
neat, carefully written words, reflect the interest and time that one has taken to write it...
n' now here we are in the age of technology:
in the age where the a response from a loved one comes within 2 seconds because of email. the restlessness and waiting is never truly felt...
in an age where typed letters has taken the place of carefully written words with beautiful handwriting...
where emotions are not hidden between the lines but expressed by yahoo's emoticons...
the joy of opening a letter with your own hands, and feeling the stiff paper against your skin is completely different than clicking on the sign that says, "Inbox(1)".
grt poem! :-)
sweet imagination, vani!
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