Last letter to Anna

vikas chandra

Would this be, that piece, I deferred, thru many ends
Or forgot shrewdly, many times, till it came
To that bend, where we break, not as lovers or friends
But strangers so estranged, playing a “skipping” game

Do I have the nerve, to pen this, with that thing called “pain”?
It ain’t the finest ink, but, how else, to post a heart
That moans out the missive, of a man, with a nerveless vein
Who once mimed a hero, is a wreck, can you tell apart?

Was love, some hearts raffle, some gamble, out of the blue?
Sorry! I didn’t make it, to the win, that, so likely seemed
Just love, pure love, with heart at stake, until, you bid adieu
Why made me a petty bettor, were you the one, I dreamed?

Springs still bless, those who, bask in passion’s grace
Baptize rains, those loves, whose creed, to give…

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