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The old man and his wife

The old man and his wife,
Lived at the end of the old street,
At the intersection of colour and life,
The intersection where smile and laughter would meet.

Theirs was the most lovely couplet,
And oldest indeed the street had ever know,
But their love was as new as the water droplet,
Seen at the dawn….on grass fully grown.

Often…..he would fight with her,
So that she`d get angry with him,
So that he`d get to pamper her,
And then she`d blush and smile back at him….

Everything went on fine until,
That day………when everything changed,
The day his wife went motionless and still….
The day when…….it just rained…..

From then the old man was on his own,
Trying to get in terms with the loss…
Of the most beloved…..for long he`d know,
His life had now gone for a toss….

With red and water….filled eyes…..
He keeps looking here and there,
He keeps searching for his wife…..
In vain….he finds her no where...

What……..will now suffice? ?
For the loss of his true love knot?
He keeps…..missing his wife…
His wife…..whom he loved a lot….

The slot of silence……now he has brought….
Endlessly he stands…..and weeps at her grave…
And also the next plot he has bought….
For besides her…he wishes to be laid…

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