I was to write ballads For the love That was never mine Below the full moon In silent nights Claimed by jasmine scent Kept awake by breeze But before I could sing Before I could ask She left without a trace, Leaving, without knowing, The unsung words The moon, a crescent Nights stilled, scentless. When the words Turned relics The ballads Fond memories Fetching faint smiles The heart Already healed We met again Wiser and seasoned She had lived Her miseries I had mine All under one roof If not in love As least in grief: A sibling never found Children orphaned Parents aged in grief Hopes sunk Love trampled Bestiality at large If the ballads had failed At Least in grief We are united.
Managed and owned by N. Bobo Meitei