Silence Zvaraya | + Follow Poet |
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90 Years Younger

As my old eyes search for the setting sun,
My mind is at work,
Mending the million fragmented memories.
The long arm of my mind,
Retrieves the first dusty diary,
from the tallest of shelves.
Now ninety years have passed,
My  weary  body  struggling  to  stand  on  its  own.
But the strength of the heart is always unfading.
Now it is stronger than it was before,
It stands on its own,
as it searches everywhere for your voice.
My treasure chest is full,
of  the  dozens  of  letters  you  wrote  for  me .
Every time  I  read  them  my  memories  grow  young,
My heart was ever well living in the velvet of this love.
Then came our first night together.
Lonely in love, I could not wait for you,
to rest your head on my chest,
 under the full sight of the moon,
You  reading  from  the  book  of  your  future  and  dreams.
I feel now the night we first made love,
It all started with a quiet conversation in a candlelit room,
I didn`t want to let go,
The glow of your beauty,
Eclipsed the light of the candle,
The flame of our desire flying.
Now  I  watch  the  candle  come  to  life  in  the  night,
Its flame gives the reflection of your beauty,
I carry the immortal faint smile,
Watch it until it dies out.
In my salad days,
I saw a lot of beautiful girls, but none compared to you,
It really made me dig deep in the mine of my emotions,
For that something I only found in you.
Sometimes I play some old love songs,
And let my mind quietly wonder,
In the forest of the lost memories.
I  try  to  bring  together  the  million  pieces  every  afternoon .
But as the sun sets,
the almost complete mirror falls to the ground,
to a million pieces again.
Because this is the most precious of the times,
we spent together,
Gazing with relief and sympathetic eyes,
at the tired setting sun,
It was romantic like a poem,
A tuneful song.
I see the young generation of   today,
They try serenading.
But  their  songs  are  not  as  deep  as  ours .
Not everlasting as the ones we sang.
They also talk and walk,
The Romeo and Juliet way,
But it is not as old and untamed,
As the original by Shakespeare. 
The way you talked, smiled,
and sometimes remained quiet gazing, defined art.
In your own way you were a magician,
Everything you touched turned gold,
You touched my heart,
Now care more about your grandchildren. 
You etched something,
On the deepest part of my heart,
Every day I fall in love with you.
It is as if I am sad now.
It  is  just  that  I  want  you  to  know ;
I am the luckiest man on this world.
May be  I  just  want  to  get  hold  of  something ,
Something more than memories.
Even though you are now gone,
As I promised;
I will jealously hold on to these memories.
To this love, old and deep.
I hope there is place up there,
Where we can hold each other again.
I am not grieved.
No hard feelings for Mother Nature.
She gave us more than she can take from us.
It seems I am now waiting for death.
I hope you carried those cherry moments with you,
Because soon somewhere we shall meet,
And fall in love again.

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