Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Ghosts of Love-

There is an old bench
Near the calm sea shore
Made of wood, rotten and thickets coming
On all of it galore

She sits on them on all nights
All nights and waits for him
They say on all nights he comes he does
Wearing a sailor tunic, a bow and a red trim

As youthful as ever he stays
While she holds him in her wrinkled hands
As he sprinkles kisses on her forehead
And also strokes her white-gray ancient hair strands

A few drops through her eyes fall
On his war insignia she wipes them caressing slow
Through all her tears he walks backwards
A few paces to the shore and bow

She does not stop him
She never will
He said I shall come the night he went
And all she does is believe him still

And he always does
And he always does

Tomorrow she shall wait again
On that old bench alone for her man brave
And like their nights of unending wrinkled love
These words shall be immortal as well on their grave.

The old bench awaits us.

1 comment:

manali said...

i really liked this one...and hence i featured it on my blog :D i hope i did justice to it though! seriously raj, kudos.... they way you unfurl emotions... very few can!