a poem by Mobani Biswas, India - poetry writer, author, poet

The sound of familiar footsteps echoed,
She rushed to the door, imagining his return,
The return of the person, who was never her's.
The heart ached and burned,
the wait was never ending and hopes were none.

The door of the heart, she forever kept open,
not for everyone to look into it,
but for the person who had once visited it.
He had been a lonely traveller searching for comfort,
but she gave her all and lost her all in return.

The traveller moved on, comforted & rejuvenated,
She was left standing at the door,
clutching at the lingering memories in the air.
The mind said her love was in vain,
but her heart did not let the memories to wane.

Her love for the traveller was deep and pure,
but her mouth could not utter what her heart knew.
Her lips were sealed, but her actions were her representatives,
her fault was not that she had loved,
but the mistake was to think she was loved in return.

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