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A Letter to Younger Self

by Twinkle George
(Chennai, India)

Dear Twinkle,
Overwhelmed with emotions myriad,
My pen strides forward,
Scripting you, this letter,
that finds you in good health.

Oh! How grateful I am dear.
For these voluminous bundles of memories rare,
stacked for me, from years before your pages bore such lyrics and poetry.
My heart leaps in proud thumps of your growing.
Though, I wonder, feeling wise in the name of experience;
How would you perceive me, now, nearing 26,
Feeling old and a carrying stubborn body that cooperates never.
Would you forgive me, for the journey I complicated in the name of love.
Would you too, be proud of my progress, though a very little?

Though years have gone by and you tried each day,
I here at a distant future, sometimes, feel the burn of those pages fed to fire.
Don’t you worry; a lesson learnt is sometimes forever,
Your poems and stories are safe traveling miles, 13 years from the day
You watched the dance of the fire, on your favorite pages.
And Sweet! I realize how you hate the mirrors now, I wish you never hate her,
the girl you see on your reflection, for hate is a stronger poison,
That kills slow.
Years away from you, I can tell you,
Skin, colored or not, never traps or curses any;
it embraces you tight in love, always wrapping you,reminding to be you.
Remember, it’s the perception, the thoughts that cage people darling.
Monsters are thoughts taking form, so are the angels too Ma chérie.
Open those doors shut dear, there are wonders to be seen and learnt outside!
Who cares the tumbling sides of the rain from skies?
This I can promise you, in time we all learn,
Letting go and giving love, least expecting in return.
So, for now, just live the moments as they come.

And be a little gentle, as I narrate you this,
Till date, my dreams stage on the Montfort verandas and its premises.
The poems you will be penning from years now, is colored green by your early sight
Secrets deep, covered in that mist always made you sick, yet your connection I feel now.
Scent of the fresh rains, that endlessly found its way to your room floor,
The thunders that blew your reading candles,
The crisp rattle of summer leaves on ground, still retaining the dampness of those many drizzles.
The cold winds turning pages of your favorite, “Little Women” giggling though the bamboo reeds over the grasslands behind.
All I remember well, like you see them now.
Stay if you could, I would advice.
But, time will take you away,
from friends, your niche, your home to a city you hated much back then.
Dear, little did you know, then, that the city would bring a changed dimension in you.
Re- encountering friends, home, your niche too would change and structure in strength.
The journey would kindle in you a voluptuous eruption of joy, I swear you will see.
For now, take a little step towards happiness around you,
Let it find you sooner than me, I pray.

With love,


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