Memory

The fragrant spring knocks on his door,

When he opens it to a new day, with hope.

The Daisies and Sunflowers sing the morning hymn

While he waits for the girl to wake up from her dream

A place where love once danced to nature’s cacophony

And peace was dappled by a canopy so woody

Maybe, will get back what once was his

And he would thank these mountainous trees

“Why are we here and who are you?”

Breaks him from his trance too good to be true

The woman was up and standing appalled

And he knows his attempt was yet another fall.

“Calm down my love, for you are my life!”

“You lie”, she shouts and picks up a fruit knife.

With a “Trust me my dear” he moves towards the damsel

And in fright and defense she uses the blade

Amidst the raining “Sorry”s and regretful “Oh No”s

The blade clinks when it hits the marble floor.

And a body with a loving heart lies in a crimson pool

Still pleading to the trembling girl to keep her cool.

She goes up to the phone desk just to witness the fact

A framed picture of her marriage shows her with the same man

In tears she shouts “I love you, just stay with me Okay!”

And dials the number that might end up saving her day.

But while the phone rings; memories are washed clean

“How may I help you?” simply makes her think.

There is a man, I know not of, is dead on my floor

She keeps the phone, and with calm demeanor walks out of the door.

-Vaisakhi Mishra

PS - I read a story, quite sometime back and the basic idea of this poem is a direct pick of the story. I would have given it credits but i don't even remember where i read it. So if any of you come across a similar story let me know. The poem is my own though...:)

Picture Courtesy - google.com