The Last Letter : 15.3.66

As I scribble down

one more poem for you

and your inbox shows

my one more mail.

I watch an old lady

waiting patiently at post office

right next to my home

to receive

an undelivered letter.

An aged postmaster comes

in his khaki uniform

and hands her an old envelope.

With those wrinkled hands

she opens the envelope


takes out a pale-yellow coloured page

 torn from all four corners

With widening eyes

she tries hard to read the letter

through those old-fashioned glasses.

Shivers pass through her body

as she touches the words written

in faint ink

“I love you, With love, Shams”

She wipes her tears


She folds the letter

very cautiously

and says

“If only this was not his Last Letter”


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