The unfinished story: A poem by Sampurna Chatterjee Ganguly

The sky is reverberated with the warbled opera and on the bank, I am pondering over,

In the brisk breeze, my hair is tossing around,

Like the whirling leaves in autumn.

The faint golden rays of the setting sun,

Is painting sepia over the auburn horizon?

Twilight sneaks in, and the red, yellow clouds are floating in euphoric exuberance,

And reach almost the land  to weave the verses of the impending night,

The soft cool breeze is aimlessly treading over the land in front of my sight,

I am nudged with an epiphany and at the sky I gaze.

I realize life is really unforeseeable and in the flickering hues of twilight,

At times I turn the quivering pages of the book of my life,

The unfinished story of love is there that I commenced to write,

I close my eyes and realize the story had indeed never begun.

Hence it couldn't meet the end, a story too unbegun.

I start shedding off the regret of what was not mine,

I reckon you and me will not meet ever, the parted twain,

I can see myself floating on the waves of life,

Hope fills my heart to be ashore as I rejoice in ukiyo,

All seem so easy as a divine faith coagulates me utmost.