The Old Shirt-W
After very long time, I took out my shirt
Cornered in the wardrobe on a hanger.
I found a long familiar hair in the collar
How a*beauty drew me with a single hair.
Ah! What a feel of an intoxicating smell
Of her most favored Bocheron perfume.
Bringing back the memory of the past
I wore that shirt in that memorial winter.
Relapsed in to that my fondest memory
As I was penning pretty poor poetry
The blonde with midnight black hair came
Asked me to finish my poem*March Madness.
My unfinished poem in black ink dried up
Finished and could finish my wet desire.
Those curious locks my soul so aptly twined
Whose every soft hair a soul doth bind.
Young memory of first love never fades away
Old memory is like flowers planted yesterday.
********
*Inspired by Alexander Pope
** My Poem in the Archives.
=========================================
Fourth Place win in
Contest : Fondest memory sponsored by frank Herrera
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