In diary folds you will find,
one letter each for you a day.
That would tell how my mind,
choked on feelings I desired to say.
Feelings painted on true canvas,
with brush of love and faith.
With colours and tears alas,
made so the painting sayeth.
Some castles are built in air,
while some on love so very pure.
The letters are fading, so unfair,
and a broken heart has no cure.
Prasenjit©1997-2012
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