Where is the letter?

[LOKESH ZAHID]

I have lost my letter in the by lanes of city
It was mine, it was her, and it was of unsaid words.

Written in torn paper of her college notebook,
filled with emotions of a doting but discreet girl,
with bunch of chocolates she bought from a Hindu shop keeper.

The words travelled from the backstreet of Chowmallah place
and died in the heart of a highlander.

Has she forgotten the monk who taught her to share magical words?
Has he lost the yearning to create a world of their love?

Today
They are strangers
Words are dead, only remain ashes.

Yes
I burnt the letter yesterday.