A Withered Flower…

Never did I expect a reply

While writing her the first letter

But later we shared our lives,in letters

She was my friend

The only one I confide in

But still I remained hidden from her

I was afraid ,my wrinkled face and hands

Might shun her away…

 

And one fine day,

   no more of her letters visited me

My mailbox was all dried up…

I panicked, what could have happened ?

Did she know who I was ?

Or was she in any trouble ?

There was no way, I could know

I wrote to her every day of the week

And I waited and waited, but in vain

The week of freedom

Became the only hope, now I had…

  

Drenched in night’s rain,

There stood the debris of an old dilapidated home

Remains of rodents and my letters,

Greeted me, when I reached her address

With all my nerves I knocked

But, none answered

Mustering up my courage,

I pushed open the old door…

Loud crackling noise, echoed in the room

Standing in the stale room

I smelled the burning skin

I also smelled blood…

 

Save her!!, my mind raced

Save her !!,

From clutches of the drunken bastard

I stabbed him from the back

For he pushed himself on her

For he who also the one who set me on fire

In a flicker of second my past flashed before my eyes

Father, he was ,to her

 

Wiping away my sweat

And my tears, I moved out of the place

She was nowhere to be seen

I couldn’t find my friend, my daughter

And I had no time to wait

For I have a sentence to meet

But I hope someday soon

Her letters will fill my mailbox

Note : Found this intact in one of my old folders.This was written long back,around 2011 based on some horrible news that was making rounds then.
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