For it has been 253 days now,
My letterbox lies empty
I still am being optimistic
When butterflies would run across my stomach
When would I get remembered certainly?
The postman comes once in a while
ringing his cycle’s bell
“Finally I am remembered, now ends my wait!”
I rush and dash right away
Dispersing the floral curtains in much abruptness
Finally, I peep out and scooch low
the money plant hanging to and fro
With a pumping heart and eyes which glow
Childish excitements which my heart follows
A letter in the letterbox?
The postman looks up and parts a fading smile
A quick nod of accustomed dismay
Pretty familiar with my expressions he is by now
Of a fake smile
And torn hidden dejection
My heart sinks with a perpetual rejection
No letter in my letterbox!!
Lonely days and nights
Of changing seasons
And changing months
The April flowers which bloomed
And fell over its top
Making it wear a flowery hat
Has now withered away
The monsoon rain of July
Has faded away most of its red
And laved away the pink flowers of April and May
From 53 to 153 to 253…
It is past 253 days now
But my letterbox still lies empty
Enveloped with webs and layers of dust though
My letterbox is void of real envelops for sure
But I am still an optimistic hopeless romantic you see,
Yet waiting to be remembered soon and certainly!