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  • Nandini Sengupta

For Him, with Love


A name you would often call me by...

Today I celebrate our love.

In the aroma of flowers, you gifted me that day, I still seek your fragrance. They are dried now but are still resting on my window sill. I couldn't throw them away. They too are waiting to be touched by your warm hands. I surmise they are shying away in silence lest you read their thoughts. They are their secrets.

I had a dream last night. I embraced thee in my arms, my love, held thou tight to never let you go. In my dreams, you are with me and I am yours.

Through my poetry, you are remembered every day. In my lines, you are loved and cared for.

The clouds shall be my messenger; the wind touching your wisps of hair shall be my friend in disguise, whispering my words of love into your steel ears. They don't mind man-made barriers.

My ardour was borne of you and yours of me. The hands that touched your essence were none but of me. The drops of tears that fell on those flowers while I was bringing them home are dried now. They don't mourn anymore.

"with gratitude

I end this letter

with dignity

I set myself free"

{She keeps this letter in her box along with other numerous ones...}

By Nandini Sengupta


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