A letter to Isabel
Like many letters written by me to you,
Which got never posted
This will also perhaps not see
The Post box and perhaps be wasted.
But then I know you are still hoping…
That someday from my land will arrive the letter,
That will tell you how we both evolved and talk about days we had seen together
From our days of innocence supreme
To experiences which we both loved,
Time will tell if we were right or wrong
But as long as cuckoo sings a song
Every time when spring will tiptoe quiet
Into our hearts in mornings bright
I know you will cherish my memory
In your treasured chamber of heart
I know you will, like me, weave a story
And let it float away in the first strong gush
When monsoon will to your town rush.
Till then let us think and ruminate
Days of yesteryears which we passed
So happy, those days – dry and wet
Till the season of our youth did last.