Now I am one of the pages in her pious book
She meets me many a time a day
I am a lifeless life to her only lifeline
Blurry memories to her youth
I am a brown wrinkly envelope
In me is a creased letter
I came in her happy hands, forgotten years back
Walking in beauty, she rushed to feel me
She kissed me umpteen times
Mutely repeated her rosary
I was the singing and sensation of her star
The Soldier on the border
His promise of holding her in his embrace
Meeting her in the open terrace
Locking the moments in one breath
She had reached the wondrous world of dream land
She carried me to her bosom
Within earshot I felt her heart beats
Sweeping letters in the love letter
Duplicating words to her self
End of the endless wait of her lover
A crisp white envelope embossed for martyr’s sweetheart
Time creeped by in fidgety silence
I am the last liaison of lovers
Leafing the scriptures, she meets me
I am angelic page in her Good book
