Those Clandestine Letters of Love

Amid the darkness of that bookshelf of his library,

She found myriad love letters, wondering why,

He showed her never, hiding them in his hive,

The letters still hold the essence of roses which,

Might been once alive, they hold more the essence,

Of that, which has long lost from their space,

 

From their hearts and their minds fading away,

Gradually, without even telling, all has disappeared,

Somewhere far way much far to be found again,

In his absence she read them all, once and again,

Myriad times enough, the words became encrypted,

On her heart, the love in those clandestine letters,

 

Began flowing in her veins, filling her with vigor,

She felt the spurt again,  she saw that in darkness,

A shadow moved across, and she followed him,

Her eyes saw what she couldn’t believe, he still reads,

Those clandestine love letters, somewhere feeling jealous,

Full of guilt, she decided to change everything,

A promise made in silence, to her soul and to his, 

 

Found missing she, the last chapter still untold,

The last part, her husband’s clandestine love letters,

Revealed, Alas! In the end he never met her,

That secret woman of his life, his secret lover,

She wrote in her writing the last part, keeping it,

Hidden along with the rest of those love letters,

Knowing that he would read them in the night,

 

The next dawn witnessed him rising up with the sun,

His face beaming and blushing, he seemed in haste,

She noticed the change, but still kept her peace,

Before leaving, for the first time he kissed on her lips,

After all these years, she has missed that touch,

A tear rolled down her cheeks, careless he to notice,

 

Arriving to the garden, his heart began thumping,

To see that she was already there, sitting on the bench,

Waiting no one knew how long, she sat with her back,

Towards him, he saw her long tresses and a flower on it,

He could smell the same essence, of those clandestine love letters,

Emanating her whole being, he went near keeping his hand,

 

On her shoulder, she turned and their eyes met,

And for the first time he saw in all those years,

His wife was as beautiful as ever, only he was lost,

Lost in the world somewhere he was looking for,

Trying to find that love which was disappearing,

And thus found his solace and lost love,

In those clandestine love letters which his wife wrote,

 

Before their unison as man and woman, she was precious,

And so were her love letters which he cared for,

Years so long, keeping them hidden to show he still loves,

Her letters of love, and in the garden, on the bench,

They held each other’s hand and kissed long without,

The fear of losing that love again, and those love letters,

 

Fled far far away, blown by the soft gentle wind,

And she let them from her hands, kissing him on his lips like never before………………………………………

 

*Monalisa Joshi*

 

 

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