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Hey, Do you remember that day?
Inside the Little beautiful coffee shop,
You were waiting for someone,
Who didn't come that day!

The flowers on your hand,
Red roses and tulips.
The pendant on your neck,
Glittery and shiny.

The tears on your eyes
were visible from a distance.
Before I could ask,
You already left that place!

From that day you were on my head,
You became the 'fairy' in my fairy tale.
I look for you everywhere,
But you disappeared somewhere.

In your memories all I have is -
The pendant on your neck
Yes! you dropped that day,

If it's meant to be us ,
We will meet someday!
In hope of you , all I can do is
write another story for you.

Before the ink runs dry,
Hope to meet you soon!
All my eyes look only for you!

Don't know if this is love.
But there's something,
Beyond words,
maybe a few lines couldn't describe!

I would like to visit,
That Little beautiful coffee shop,
With flowers on my hand,
Red roses and tulips.
What's saddest?
The memories or the people?
Maybe it's hard to decide,
Yet all we have are memories.

Remembering those days,
The month of March,
The flow of Bordoisila,
The old hut, and the real people.

The thrilling sound of the wind,
Fear in our faces,
The destruction it left behind.
Hand in hand, shoulders touching-
Do you remember?

In the dark, lighting up candles,
Fear and joy intertwined.
Yet those days were beautiful-
When love and care were pure.

I remember, hiding beside the window,
Staring at the scary nights.
Cold wind carrying dry leaves,
Lightning streaking through the sky,
Sudden beats in our hearts!
Yet those days were too beautiful to explain.

Where are those winds now?
Maybe a transient gift,
One I never understood until I turned eighteen.
Now all I have left
Are memories... and memories.
Bordoisila: In Assamese culture, Bordoisila is a pre-monsoon storm that brings with it fierce winds and rains, usually occurring in the month of March. It's considered both a force of destruction and renewal. According to folklore, Bordoisila represents a powerful mythical being who returns to her mother's house, causing the stormy weather as she travels. The storm is a symbol of nature's raw power but also carries a nostalgic and cultural significance, especially for those who've grown up experiencing it firsthand
In that wrinkled page, 
Ink of the pen shattered! 
He hasn't seen her for months. 
The only thing he had was – 
Her beautiful picture, 
Hair open, 
A sweet smile with large eyes.

In hope for his words, 
She's waiting, at the gate of their house! 
Remembering their memories, 
She wipes her tears. 
When will he come back?

"Are you missing someone?" they asked. 
He smiled through her picture, 
Admiring her beauty – 
The only thing that brought him joy.

Before the two hearts could meet, 
The heart met the bullet, 
Taking his innocent soul away from her. 
In that battlefield, 
He was proud of his land.

Wrinkled pages remained unfulfilled, 
Words remained inside his soul. 
Before she could see his bright face, 
It had already turned pale!

Tears fell to the ground.
She waited for an answer,
But his lips stayed silent.

“You said you’d stay by my side, 
Hold my hand when the dark came, 
Keep me warm when the cold wrapped around us, 
Stand by me in the storm, 
And shelter me from the rain.”

What happened now? 
Why aren't you replying? 
Maybe it was too late, 
The promises are still there, but not him. 
Words are there but inside him.
This poem paints a heart-wrenching scene of a soldier separated from his beloved by war. While she waits at the gate of their home, longing for his return, the battlefield steals him away forever. The poem captures her sorrow as she clings to the memory of his promises—promises that remain unfulfilled as his life is cut short. The wrinkled pages of their story remain unfinished, with words left unsaid and a love that will never be complete.

— The End —