Holding fast the truth I sing of a fairy tale gone awry, a fruitless love like no other, and a whirlwind in my eye.
There I met her by the trees, a dress of fuchsia and green, colours that never could assemble, yet so awe-striking and serene.
Her eyes, worth a thousand words, her hair like the endless rain, a fragrance to die for,
and the bewitching lips of a dame.
Strolling by the chilly lake, we talked and talked till two, under the weeping clouds, she said, ‘I love you true’.
Then she took me to her place, her body laid out before me, the night’d come to hold us young, my perfect match, could she be?
Alas! I awoke from this limbo, by the sound of dissonant chirping, from a night of sweet love moan, to a mournful fling.
This bird had flown at dawn,
or maybe all of it was a dream,
an unkempt tail between my legs,
or so it may seem.
And this is why I drink my wine, to a fairy tale of woe,
a bitter-sweet taste in my mouth, and no more words to show.
Art by Janina Medeiros
This piece has been authored by Mayur Sonowal, a student who is pursuing Masters of Technology from IIT Kanpur. He loves reading underrated novels, listening to Punk Rock music, procrastinating the heck out of his time, and watching football. Also, Mayur is all for dark humour.
Writer's note - this poem has been inspired by works of Romantic poets such as Keats and Wordsworth.