She, I and Her

By Partho Sen

She,

Crossed a busy road one fateful day,

Stood,

Smiled,

And some unknown spark within me rose,

Subtly sublime, and worthy of everlasting prose.

Approached,

(And I speak of the spark, for her image then was yet to unfold)

A rather gentle one,

And even quite mellow, as was not foretold,

To me before,

In love stories I was once told.

Ah yes,

In that moment it wasn’t passion that enraptured,

My boyish soul,

But lest I choose to lie (and I mustn’t lie), it was something more,

Something ever so mildly poignant,

Something to truly behold,

And something that has forever been captured,

In rhyme, rhythm, and fairy tales of old.

Was it she? Who let this river flow?

A river traversing the highest of highs and the lowest of lows?

Was it she and only she, who kindled this virgin flame?

And was she also the one who allowed it to grow?

And should I be tempted? Or would I even be happy,

If in her slender arms, this poor old me she was to hold?

I don’t know, my love,

I don’t know.

By Partho Sen