Thursday 28 January 2016

A Withered Flower...



Never did I expect a reply


While writing her the first letter


But later we shared our lives,in letters


She was my friend


The only one I confide in


But still I remained hidden from her


I was afraid ,my wrinkled face and hands


Might shun her away…


 


And one fine day,


   no more of her letters visited me


My mailbox was all dried up…


I panicked, what could have happened ?


Did she know who I was ?


Or was she in any trouble ?


There was no way, I could know


I wrote to her every day of the week


And I waited and waited, but in vain


The week of freedom


Became the only hope, now I had…


  


Drenched in night’s rain,


There stood the debris of an old dilapidated home


Remains of rodents and my letters,


Greeted me, when I reached her address


With all my nerves I knocked


But, none answered


Mustering up my courage,


I pushed open the old door…


Loud crackling noise, echoed in the room


Standing in the stale room


I smelled the burning skin


I also smelled blood…


 


Save her!!, my mind raced


Save her !!,


From clutches of the drunken bastard


I stabbed him from the back


For he pushed himself on her


For he who also the one who set me on fire


In a flicker of second my past flashed before my eyes


Father, he was ,to her


 


Wiping away my sweat


And my tears, I moved out of the place


She was nowhere to be seen


I couldn’t find my friend, my daughter


And I had no time to wait


For I have a sentence to meet


But I hope someday soon


Her letters will fill my mailbox






Note : Found this intact in one of my old folders.This was written long back,around 2011 based on some horrible news that was making rounds then.

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