post, a feeling

Trin trin... trin trin... came the melody from outside, a sound made from experienced and aged hands. Finally, there was a mail in the rusted and almost broken red box! Those pale hands took out the letter while bruising mildly the upper palm having rubbed against the sharp endings of the box-slot. The post was torn on the edges, and had a lot of re-direction seals on it. It had traveled far, and mostly in wrong directions, yet it had managed to reach the right hands. The pale hands ran across the post, experiencing the rough fringes of the stamps, the aged eyes looked through the hazy glasses and read the name slowly. Yes, the post was in the right hands.

A kind of warmth spread across the chest, maybe the feeling of receiving a post was very exciting. After all these years, there still was a heart that cared. The letter had the same fragrance, the same perfume which the sender had used during the first date. Letters and words rekindled the extinguished fire of love, and the aged lips read each word with a smile. Heart felt young again, for here was the rebirth of a forgotten love, the love that had taken its birth in the prime of youth, and growing up had made its way to end the relationship. There were no barriers now, no stale ego, no religion, no status, nothing... the love that was born in innocence was rising up. This time, the heart was wise enough to see the same love from experience.

The old body gathered some strength to dally towards the study, to grab a parchment and a quill. The heart wanted to write, write to its love, the first love. Shivering pale hand dipped the quill in an old ink pot, and there was a blot on the parchment, a smile spread across the wrinkled face, and the heart knew exactly the kind of adventure it was going to meet.