Picture courtesy: Ritobrato Kundu

And then she asked me

'Do you write poems still?

Of rainbows and love

And golden crimson spring?'

I wish I could add.

The day you left, winter prevailed

And thorns have no stories of their own,

Don't dig too deep my dear

Over layers forgotten, lost and overgrown.

And then she asked me

"What has made you so quite?

You were never this way.

Today we met after so many years

And you have noting at all to say?"

I wish I could add.

The flower that once withers

Never cares to bloom again

For what I was and what I became

I have no one to blame.

And then she asked me

'Don't you remember me?

College buddies we were two'

I smiled and said, after all these years,

'Yes Sophie! I do'