Under the spreading branches of a juniper tree stands a mailbox forlorn in the winter's snow
Derelict with a moss covered facade, the house too is a treasure trove of souvenirs and a curio
The door, a color of summer violets and forget-me-nots blue
Waits for someone to knock on it to make all their dreams come true
As I hold this old photograph between the strings of my heart
Speaking volumes about the history of this quaint little town is only a start
From a sliver of time, a tiny vault of memory whispers a strain of melody
An unwritten story, an unsung song or a heartfelt poetry
Upon the sun-warmed beach we had built sandcastles, turrets and towers
Snapshots as we picked seashells or in the sand, carved some flowers
Swathed in silks your hair had shimmered like diaphanous pixie wings under the autumn moon
Your eyes radiant like a chatoyant jewels had glittered with hues of the ocean and water lilies in bloom
If my world was a palette of paint, you were the blue of my sky
The red of my hopes, the gold of my sunshine and green of my joy
Whilst now caged in this monochrome black and white world bland
We created stripes and swirls of a rainbow wonderland
The sky had blushed with streaks of coral and peach color
Rouge and fuchsia ribbons whirled when it had almost come to pass a brazen winter
Lost echoes still reverberate in the silence of the dusky skies
Long shadows abound, some dreams were buried for our futile pride.
©️ Sangeetha Kamath
Pic Courtesy: Pixabay
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