Oh! facing you is more difficult than before,
For my heart is lost you see.
I gave it away so long ago,
And but now, nothing remains.
It all started from the day we met.
Aeons ago, or so it seems.
A voice behind, calling out,
I turned ..and saw you there,
Your usual smile graced the lips
With a tiny quirk and a dimple there.
Hidden deep in your stubbled cheek.
From then on each day was a new delight,
For what be dreams when you were there.
Moments were precious now you see,
Each meeting was an amalgam for me,
Of excitement and anxiety abound.
Your walk, your talk,
Oh.. I could go on and on.
It was physical..oh yes.. the attraction.
And yet slowly you lured me in,
Like the spider and the fly.
And then it was oh! so much more,
Encouragement and motivation lined our talks.
There was even banishment of depressive thoughts,
And with frequent mending of my broken soul,
You healed me without even knowing so.
And so it went on… and on.. and on.
Gather my courage, I did of course,
To let you know of all my thoughts,
My dreams and the hopes which were hidden deep.
Yet, Alas! it wasn’t meant to be,
I found that you were engaged, you see.
And with that came the death of my dream,
My hopes and wishes for a perfect life.
Yet I will not despair..
For all is not lost, you see.
It is still a win for me,
whether you returned my feelings or not.
“A Life partner or a great friend,
I would end up with one”, I had said
To my friends, one day long ago.
And that is what keeps me going with a smile,
As I wish you on your wedding day,
I do pray that your wife treasures you,
As much as I treasure this friendship of ours.
My feelings for now… are buried deep.
Six feet under in the illusion of my mind.
NaPoWriMo 2017 Day 3
Today I’d like to challenge you to write an elegy – a poem that mourns or honors someone dead or something gone by. And I’d like to ask you to center the elegy on an unusual fact about the person or thing being mourned. For example, if you are writing an elegy about your grandfather, perhaps the poem could be centered around a signature phrase of his. (My own grandfather used to justify whatever he was doing by saying, “well, I can’t sing or dance, and it’s too wet to plow,” which baffled me considerably as a child). Or perhaps your Aunt Lily always unconsciously whistled between her teeth while engaged in her daily battle with the crossword puzzle. These types of details paradoxically breathe life into an elegy, making the mourned person real for the reader.
“The sorrow one feels on the death or loss of a feeling or a dream of a future together with a loved one”, this is what I tried to write about. Nothing seemed to fit in, though. It feels like there are a lot of things left unsaid here. But even things left unsaid have a power of its own… so just gonna let things be for now.
Click here to read my other NaPoWriMo Prompts…