It lingers, still, on my, cedar ledge
Since the spring, in its throes, her daffodil, died
A shred, of my heart, sealed with, passion’s pledge
“So shall, live on, pain, love prophesied!”

Dare I, stroke in vain, my heart’s, broken vein
Lest I stoke, yet again, quiescent zephyr, of fall
Those illusions, of love, these delusions, of pain!
The sweet sin, of her, throbbing recall!

For two quartets, done, two quartets, left
Why a, pilgrim strayed, many a mile
For a fist, of dust, and a heart, bereft!
With an, estranged love, to reconcile!

A relic of me, shall she never, ever see
Like a, dying dame, in a, spinster’s glove
Shall last, in my heart, her last legacy
A Half-Written Letter, To My Love!

© 2020 Vikas Chandra