Saturday, March 23, 2013

Having Torn A Letter

Tearing your last letter this evening,
Was the hardest thing i did,
Since i let you go last spring.
The words wailed, winding around,
The walls of the house,
And the logs in the fireplace crackled.
There were thirteen strikes when the clock struck twelve,
And the dogs barked all night.
A final 21 gun salute
To the words and the world
That was torn.
The man in the moon hid for a while
And the wind outside,
Observed a minute's silence.
These were words I had kept hidden,
Black inscriptions on coloured paper...
Like the green and gold of a year's harvest
Across the spring time fields,
Words that I had kept locked,
Like memories of parting,
Less painful with every passing year.
These words hurry and scurry across your street,
French kissing your window with the telegram,
"Winter has arrived."


Abin Chakraborty said...

does french kissing the window actually signify a final parting, whatever the content of the telegram? I would read the final few lines as ironic affirmations of lasting bonds.

sayan said...

oh would not want to see this poem as anything but a final paring..maybe in the subconscious i do not want this parting to happen..but it has happened..and i do not see any renewal happening...the bonds remain...but we have parted...