I, left them, in, lost time’s coffin
A dame’s, passion, for a, timid teen
Was I, too fearful, of, that sin
She cherished, more than, I found mean!
I dared, to open, them, today
A forty plus, man, on pilgrimage
After, funeral, of a, popinjay
Yearning, to gage, her words’, outrage!
Time’s aftermath, could not, erase
Immortal blood, from its, moral face
Of a widow, who, indeed, loved me
Beyond my, heart’s, hideous, hypocrisy!
What difference, had they, ever made
Had I, read them, many eons ago
A mellowed wine, in a, yellowed decade
Is time’s nectar, how would, I know!
I baptized them, with my, held-up tears
Like a thorn, on the heart, of a, longing dove
They aged, to epics, o’er passing years
Those, Unopened, Letters Of Love!
© 2022 Vikas Chandra