The Lonely Portrait

Long ago, the portrait was made,
With rosewood, sturdy, it was framed,
Picture-perfect was it, so debonair.
And my blank wall, it was used to decorate.

There it is, now, the lonely portrait,
Which with love, to me, you did entrust,
There it is, now, the lonely portrait,
Old, antique and gathering dust.

I was young then, blushing nineteen,
And you must have been no older than diffident twenty,
And together, we looked so lovely,
Back then, when I signed letters with my yours truly.

Just look at the lonely portrait, from which we happily smile!!
Look at your simple a stance, your very brown eyes!
Look at me, all bundled up in soft cotton!
Appearing so callow, girlish and old fashioned!

Aha, do you remember that day, when our picture was taken?
On your high and windy terrace, where with your humor, you had heartened?
Do you recollect squirming, as the picture was clicked,
Did you notice, then, my parting playful wink?

Now hangs the portrait, crooked on plastered wall,
And sometimes, even children don’t recall,
“Excuse me, but who was that?” questions the occasional aunt.
“Oh, it was someone close to my heart,” I ruefully respond.

Lonely is the portrait, that’s true, my dear,
Exposed, the photograph will slowly fade,
But I wanted you to know, that in my heart, the picture remains clear,
In my unforgetful mind, memory is retained; I shan’t forget your keepsake.

The song-bird sang at 12:27 am on the 14th of December, 2009.