I rummage through my overstuffed bookshelf, and stumble upon a long-forgotten book of poems a friend has given me, ever so long back...another age, another distant planet. I smile in recollection as the memories tumble out from between its slightly yellowed pages.
He used to write poetry then; poems on life, on hope, on love. I don’t recall those lines anymore, but I remember they had been eloquent, honest, and heartfelt. I remember the deep affection and tenderness I had felt, for the person who had loved me in silence...
We’ve come so far now, and so much has changed, but I like the friendship that has emerged unscathed from the embers of a doomed love...the sentiment that has managed to survive, even transcend, that all-encompassing emotion. I like where we stand now, in this present moment.
I don’t love him now; not in that way at least. But I love the feeling this anthology evokes. I still love that time, when two people had held this book and read it together. And I know, with profound clarity, that I will always love those sunshine days, when he had been a poet, and I, his muse.
Beautifully penned :) I know the feeling--it's the same when I begin looking for something in my treasures boxes (what my family terms 'Junk')and spend the next few hours burrowing into little fragments of memories, of friendships, of moments of life lived on another yesterday :)
ReplyDeletethanks, leena!! :)
ReplyDelete:) :) :)
ReplyDeleteI still love that time, when two people had held this book and read it together.
True, crisp in capturing the emotions of such situations and as always really nicely written! :)
thanks via!! :)
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