The Neighbour’s Wife
-by Amanita Sen
–Reading Time – 1 min Approx
I could reach up to
her knees, standing,
when I hugged her
every evening as she
called me by my name.
Her voice otherwise
unheard, came alive,
as it would for someone
she cared for. Idol-like
in her looks, quietness-
the neighbour’s wife.
Her tresses touching
her knees evoked my
admiration until they
crumpled off to cancer.
So did her breaths, soon.
Death is enormous, random,
meaningless, I surmised.
Love sees no age, no gender.
Some dusks carry my name
in her lips, her touch lingers.
-by Amanita Sen
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