That 14601th Letter Poem by ARPITA BHAGAT

That door down the road
Where Miss Murphy sat on the floor,

Munching peanuts or lapping cherries
Kids encircled asking queries,

But she never seemed to hear their words
Neither did she utter a single word,

People came knocking every other day
Miss Murphy never paid heed anyway,

Seasons came and washed away
Children grew and went away,

The red door rusted and cracked
With it she too chafed,

Then one day, the door was tightly locked
No one realized, it now stood deserted,

That very day, a man desperately knocked
A moment later, the lock was frantically unlocked,

Then he looked and looked
While radio played Young's heart of gold,

His senile eyes gleamed with yearning
Rolling through every corner anxiously,

Neighbors also came aboard
But they were silently ignored;

Finally he saw the wooden stairs
Followed were then his footsteps,

Cranked the hinges as he forced open the door
There she sat leaning against the cold floor,

Froze he as her gaze entrapped him once again
Immobile was he with her beauty still unfazed,

His senile feet moved warily
But were nudged away hastily,

Draped in white she sat immobile
Dressed in grey he stood now fragile,

Waited had she for forty years
Late was he but by forty seconds,

Splattered was the room
Saturated with gloom,

Covered was she with millions of pages
As if underneath white roses,

Leaving 14600 letters returned back
Alas,14601th was but received just a day back!

Arpita Bhagat