I waited there, under our pine tree,
And I went there for many more days,
Hoping you would come one day.
It was futile, I was told,
And that you would never be back.
But, I wanted to give it a try.
I wanted to give it a try,
Just so when my time comes,
I won’t feel that I did not wait enough.
And when I realized many springs later,
That you would never come,
I left there the scarf you had given me.
The scarf, my only piece of memory of you,
For it had your scent, as fresh as dew,
It was the only thing that I had of you.
As I wanted to let you know,
Just in case you showed up..
I was there…. Waiting for you!
DISCLAIMER: Penned by yours truly, this poem is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
In frame: A ritualistic scarf tied to a pine tree in the Himalayas, on the way from Naitala to Guptakashi, in Uttarakhand, India. I found small temples dedicated to local Gods as well as such ritualistic things, common place in the Himalayas.
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© Amrit Panigrahy. All rights reserved.