One day the wind blew again,
and re-opened your scribbled words.
It gave me same old sensation,
And cleared what was blurred.
You started it with dear,
Yes you are also my special one.
Then the wing whispered something,
I turned back but there was none.
Papers have turned pale,
And even I have turned old.
My beauty has vanished somewhere,
And these years has made me cold.
My shaking hands have turned weak,
Finding difficult to grip the letter.
Your every word seems so soothing,
No one could wrote it better.
My body is degrading day-by-day,
But our love has turned strong.
Wrinkled eyes tried to control,
But tears kept rolling all night long.