A girl with flat eyes in the west flat
sits regularly on the wooden chair to recount her past.
She sits alone with her memories.
They speak to her.
They have seventeen roses in their hand,
She is wearing a green gown.
The scenic greenery is assembled with her.
A boy comes with a bouquet of roses in his hand,
Seventeen red roses!
Red was his color.
Red eyes, red lips with a red tinted passionate heart.
A man of honor,
A man of dignity,
A man with flowers in his hands.
A man with promises in his eyes.
A man with purest love in his mouth.
A man with long stature,
And, highest standards.
A man with sweetest tone,
Who never raised his voice.
Red suited him.
Pink too.
Sky blue was his color.
Actually, all colors suited him,
His attires!
A decent smile on his face could lit the world!
A man with sparkling eyes.
A man with love and hope.
But, the girl lost him in the hands of cruel fate.
She is at the top of the success pyramid now.
All alone.
Now, seventeen year olds ask her,
How do you feel at the top all alone?!
You’ve done marvels, but, how do you feel?!
Empty!
The burden of success is too heavy to carry alone.
Her eyes are empty,
Her voice is shaky,
Her face is flat,
Her cheeks doesn’t blush in red now in the absence of her lover.
Red was her color too.
Now, she wears all black and blue.
He used to call her a white fairy,
Now, she is a black widow mourning for her losses.
You know Adam,
Some people never try to come out of their memories.
They intentionally stay stuck in the loopholes of reminiscing.
©® Farheen Akter Bhuian Nancy
Timestamp: 1.20 pm, Tagar