The Yellowed Pages of Her Diary

The Yellowed Pages of Her Diary

In the attic of her cottage on a day, snowy and cold,
She sorted through the pile of books, all dusty and old.
She found a treasure, leather bound, that was stashed away,
Its musty, yellowed pages made memories unfold.

When a hundred roses bloomed, on that sunny spring day,
He smiled at her with such a charm, took her heart away.
He placed a rose in her curly hair,  Oh how that made her blush!
It’s dried petals smelled of first love, after ages, even today.

Every page and every line, stirred memories so lush,
Of tender feelings, of fluttering hearts, the thrill of teenage crush.
That tingling current in the veins, the moment of that first kiss,
Holding hands by the sea, those evenings of mush.

On days apart, on lonely nights, when her heart did miss,
The comfort of his tender touch, she’d poured her heart in this.
With a start, she turned around, and saw him standing there,
Their marriage turned sixty today, life was a golden bliss.

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Shailaja Pai
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