The Pink Letter

I dreamt of the letter again tonight
As the sun came in with its rays so bright 
I stretched out my arms for what is mine 
The pink letter of my countless dreams divine
I try and try to peep in inside, catch a glance
To see what you have written only for me, if I have a chance 
It’s got flowers and lovely ribbons on the outside 
It makes my eyes go a love-struck surprised wide 
And then I see it’s not a letter at all but a beautiful pink card 
With birthday wishes and the lovely handwriting of a feminine bard 
It’s not mine at all, not my name anywhere at all…
Neither in the ‘to’ nor in the ‘from’ 
But there’s the touch of a female form 
I look away in my dreams, unable to bear the pain 
I had been so presumptuous, was so vain. 
Peeping into the past or the future is not my business 
So I shut up and look at the present dizziness 
As days and nights meaninglessly whizz past us... 
I just stay numb and wish that the pink letter was mine. 
But neither have you cared enough nor have I 
It’s been a relationship of convenience from the very start 
I know you’ll say me saying this hurts. 
Good news is that I don’t dream of it anymore 
But the truth doesn’t set you free, 
It just binds you to a greater degree.