She wrote to me once
She wrote to me twice
She wrote to me thrice
She wrote as many times
That me counting, won’t suffice
She wrote to me of her love’s despair
She felt sorry for the times she couldn’t spare
She wrote to me, of her lazy, faltering breathe
She wrote to me, no more she could cheat death
She wrote to me, she yearns for my love
And care, makes her flee over the mountains like a dove
About her will, failing her vigorous strove
And her fastidious breathe, yearning for my love
She wrote to me, with paper wet with her tears
I read, with my heart shredded with spears
Her love makes me wonder where
Could I find a love that could less but care ?
And I wonder, this love’s share
Is bequeathed on me. Or did my past ensnare ?
My mind wanders like a feeble dove
Doesn’t settle, its always on the rove
Those letters from my young love
Are amongst the many things, in my treasure trove..
