When You Become An Old Woman, Your Love... Poem by Debasish Parashar

When you become an old woman
Your eyes dull with strokes of your past
Like a cloudy sky
Cool and calm
Pregnant with emotions yet to rain...
And still with rays of hope
When you become an old woman.

Looking through the glasses
Of your spectacles
You will view letters in the newspaper
Changing into the loving words of your lover
A love letter, anonymous
Whose forceful insanity
You will still admire
A metamorphosis.

Sitting in an armchair upon your hearth
You will feel the warmth of fire.
Feel an urge to go back in time.
To feel the warmth of his body
Sitting coercively by you in public
Will you feel shy?
He was such a crazy guy!

Your solitary evenings
Will bourn a sense of yearning
The setting sun and its evening melancholy
Will be close to your heart.
Reminiscence of his tender touches
While walking hand in hand, side by side
Silent words, secret glances
You will still blush...and cry.
Alas! All ends in a deep sigh.

'When I turn old
Will be no more beautiful...
Will you still love me? '
You will remember asking him once.
His holding you in his arms
His tender kiss upon your tender lips
In his deep voice
' You will never grow old! '
Looking straight into your dreamy eyes
You will still remember that camouflage.

You will be thrilled by the Calypso evenings in his arms
Red like blood
Cups of wine and intoxication
The union of two souls.
You will still tease his extravaganza
Silently in mind.
When you grow old
You will find...