The Loser Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

She must now be fifty four.
Her first love letter fifteen years younger!

The lover had long moved away
She too went her way
And the cramped years gave them little chance
Except rare remembrances of their first romance!

The letter with the broken edges and clumsy write
Must long be languishing far from daylight.

The girl it cannot be said if is content with her man
The man has settled after surfing many a woman.

They remained just first lovers so willed the fate
They would be a rosy memory each other’s first date.

They gained not nor lost except their age and look
The real loser is the love letter lying in unknown nook.

Still lives in the blind hope it would see her once more
In the belief she is still fifteen and not fifty four!