Epistle of a lost friend

 I found it today—tucked and bound,

A letter yellowed, edges round,
In script so fine, your hand so true,
Words that whispered me back to you.

Once, we shared a world so small,
Two shadows stretched against the wall,
We’d talk until the stars grew dim,
Of every dream, each secret whim.

Yet life, that thief with careful tread,
Had plans for us both far ahead—
Paths untwined, in winding haste,
Memories blurred in time's cold waste.

I read your lines with heart laid bare,
In each inked stroke, a silent prayer.
Remembering laughter in the rain,
And silly games to ease the pain.

A faded joke, a borrowed coat,
A dozen poems I never wrote,
Things we thought would hold us tight,
Until the world fell out of sight.

Did you feel it, that strange drift?
As hours turned years, a gentle rift,
Widened by miles, then years unknown,
That left us bound, yet still alone.

I imagine a day when you walk near,
A glimpse, a face, a voice so clear—
And wonder if you’d know me still,
As one who shared the dreams we’d fill.

Would we laugh as strangers might,
Or talk until the early light?
Would your eyes still bear the spark
Of fires we lit in youth’s sweet dark?

For now, I'll leave this letter here,
Folded close, a souvenir—
Of a bond we lost, but never meant
To vanish with the time we spent.

So if our roads cross, near or far,
By crowded street or wishing star,
May the dust of years be kind and true,
And guide forgotten friends like me to you.

- Khushi Kaul