As her hand touched the misty pane,
And the airs tickled those nervous cheeks,
My imagination speaks of a thousand weeks,
That I’ve longed for her scent to remain
Let it twist and turn like a lawyer’s game
Or gently follow a wilting course
This story – told off a skeptic source
Loath me not, nor me you blame.
I saw her once, as her feet trampled the autumn leaves
I know well Gentlemen, the charm in men she weaves,
I know well too, her first kiss across the street,
No the boy wasn’t me, but surely my heart did beat.
It was the genesis of love, of hatred, of agony and jealousy,
Loved me, did she? – the notion nothing but a fallacy,
Even if someone’s mistress, still I’d fall for her,
I kept saying this to me, more often now, than ever,
I kept on getting visions, of her skin akin a wine,
I kept on sleeping those nights, shivering yet being fine.
She came then one fine day,
Whispered in a melancholy verse,
Longed for a love, (or was it lust?)
What was I meant to say?
The air was stale, and so I smelled were her ways,
It was humid too, a fog rolled in the staircase
I saw her through a window, smiled as a shining dime,
She smiled, but little she knew that I had seen her the last of time.
Had I been a man and told her right away,
The intimacy I felt for her, was never ever gonna sway.
But what of the girl who chose to stay beside,
She knew little that betrayal once lurked under this hide.
Then, the years passed, the emotions crept,
On demise of a love, they mournfully wept,
Thoughts stirred, and memories came,
They sparked now an old, untimely flame.
Adored her sill, oh I did for sure,
And maybe she adored me too,
Coz I remember the misty pane that day,
Those hands, those emotions I knew.
Inspired by the lady in Conan Doyle’s “Scandal In Bohemia” of the Sherlock Holmes series.