The Open Door Policy

The forlorn lane,

The drenched alley,

And, the lonesome me.

Unaware of whom I’d stumble into,

I head to my nest

Through the forlorn lane.

Blooms, the butterflies,

The memories, my comrades.

I stroll.

A gentle breeze passes by.

Her scent,

Her  fragrance,

My heart pounds.

The tinkle of the anklet,

The jingle of her bangles,

I wish it was her.

At a distance,

I see a glimpse,

Yes, it is She.

We meet face-to-face,

A decade later,

She, my Ex-Girlfriend.

Our Eyes lock,

Lips exchange smiles,

Yes, it is, indeed her.

She had proposed
not to me,
but to my friend

Shared her Yearning for him, 

and a promise to wait till the doomsday,
with an open heart!

bruising me forever.

My girlfriend, the ex.

© 2015 Ajay Pai (Reserved)   

poem