The Saffron Robe

She waits-

At the gate

To see a glimpse

Of the man she love,

The man who loved her.

So dearly,

So tenderly,

So honestly,

So passionately.

 

She waits-

At the gate

To see a glimpse

Of that turbulent past,

In his deep brown eyes,

A trace of remembrance,

A trace of nostalgia,

A trace of yearning,

A trace of regret.

 

She waits-

At the gate

To see a glimpse

Of the man she love,

The man she can’t hate,

Remembering the life they had,

Love they shared,

Embraces they cherished,

Secrets they whispered.

 

She waits-

At the gate

To see a glimpse

Of that past,

The past she wants to let go of,

As he paces,

Lost in serenity,

Towards his goal,

Passing her,

With a serene smile,

In a saffron robe.

 

She waits-

At the gate

Drenched in nostalgia,

As wistful tears sparkle,

Living in that moment,

Where he is,

So close

Yet so far,

Trying to overcome

The distance,

The yesteryears,

The reminiscence.

As his words of wisdom

Echoes.

 

And she tries.

But she fails,

To hate him.

“Love is… After all,

Merely a fleeting thought

That we choose desperately

To cling on to;

Without letting go.

Another thought,

Evanescent.”

 

Image Courtesy: www.tuxboard.com

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