Story Of Love Untitled Poem by Aman Saa

In summer he saw her
And on the first occasion of word
It was wool and winter..
In between those disappeared months
Each day he attended lessons on patience
And observed the occurrence of losing himself


When in his savings he felt enough
are faith and strength,
one fine unforgettable day as noon was on a go
he stood touching her shadow and declared to her
that his name is lover….
and asked wasn't lovely name of her?
With a not usual smile she veiled her surprise
and under those black beauty of her eyes
she calmed her amazement that tried to rise..

Silence used to be his nature and
with the purpose of turning wise
he used to sleep early and early rise
Now addicted to twinkling stars
with insomnia he shared his nights
and talked his curly thoughts unceasingly to moonlight.
The atheist within started chanting prayers,
And tagged inside him the belief that his god has come to light..


Thereafter days they walked on their own track
On some of his blessed moments they met and a few words were exchanged
He used to praise her gleam with radiance that he could not hide,
A less colored smile her pink lips would reply, , .
She talked her words and he heard them poems
He sang his poems and behind made smiles hid her ignorance
Way was it though he believed, understood and used to know
Women behave on days of intro! !
Thus he caressed the wound that had silently started to grow…….



Days passed and so did she
He had lost himself almost completely! !
His wakeful hours were even dreamy and hummed he
songs such as these on his moments lonely
'had she given a little more freedom to her hair,
Somebody would have got happily arrested forever,
Had she opened those spaces between her fingers,
Company would not have been for somebody a distant dream,
Unfulfilled still…'





Time though wake up him soon
as one evening died his love's shadow
along with the sun of the noon,
all of a sudden
on the canvas of dying redness
beheld the eyes of this devotee sight of his goddess
Holding the hands of a distant prince
Silently walking away




Love and thereafter…..

Though a few days with hidden tears
a lot he weeped….
A silence reigned the inside of him which made even the
music of his breath deaf….,
Hope was though such a magic
even at its measure of least
it held him with its miraculous fist….
And recalled within himself his better self,
some day on reading Frost that he had promised to himself
whatever in the way comes,
and even if wrong turns few of life's sums
he would go all those miles
before he sleeps.

I was the lover's friend
And consolation they weren't, so my words he listened….
Said I unto him
Life without unfound love
is but a life in itself unfound
And what have you cheered in love if not its pain
Love is a way not to your lover but into of your own self
and what have love made you find if not more of yourself,
if not more of your aloneness…

And that prevention is better than cure is wisdom
but not on wounds of past
and as he had already suffered fate
it would be of little use to embrace regret
And isn't it too true, does not he himself feel
though no great soul has uttered yet
My friend cure is certainly better than death
Cure is certainly better than death
the world salutes them as lover
Who have but wearing pain smiled and marched ahead..