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A poem from my book “STILL LOVED STILL MISSED”

LOVE UNDER THE LAVENDER TREE

Jacaranda-Tree-450w

{Pic: imagine-mexico.com}

“Under the lavender tree we stood,

A wrinkled face you looked, mine.

Your heart got hooked, it seemed;

When were you born?‖ you asked.

 

I, then, took a travel down my

Memory lane; re-lived the day,

When I was the chubby girl, saw you first

Under the same lavender tree.

 

Briskly you walked; rarely you smiled

Even to your few fellow friends.

And, I was invisible to your eyes;

A shadow masked you, I guess.

 

A cheery spring sent me in,

To your eyes (and to your heart?)

Under the same lavender tree

I stood smiling, my mind at cloud nine.

 

…………………………………………………………………

Now, we are worn and torn,

But still, you ask when I was born.

Know and note, my beloved, the day

I saw you, was the day I was born. ”

© Mridula

To read the whole poem and other tiny tales, buy STILL LOVED STILL MISSED from any source below:

POSTER 2

NOTION PRESS

Also Available on

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Word Count and Types Fiction

Such a piece of good information.

Author L. J. Walker

Here is the cheat sheet for the types of fiction according to word count:

Nanotale – Up to 6 words

Twitterature – Up to 280 characters.

Dribble or Minisaga – Up to 50 words

Drabble or Microfiction – 50 to 100 words

Microstory – 100 to 300 words

Sudden fiction – 300 to 750 words

Flash fiction – 750 – 1,000 words

Short story – 1,000 to 7,500 words

Novelette – 7,500 to 17,500 words

Novella – 17,500 to 40,000 words

Novel – over 40,000 words

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The Return

The first time he had come to Frankfurt was to pursue his post graduation.
After years, when he returned his homeland fetching a good job opportunity, he had satisfactorily completed his postdoctoral studies.
He expressed a dozen reasons to thank the place.
For him, Frankfurt was all about royale and resilience.
All around he could view only monumentous and prestigious structures.
The once war-destroyed city later emerged as a dominant spot.
The once love damaged man could find solace in its warmth.
The pleasant neighborhood and the scenic beauty made Frankfurt very dear to him.

When he explored the place as a dying wish, after 42 years, all he could see were the royal remnants looking humble amidst the multi-storied contemporary architecture. 

Heights don’t guarantee mojo!” The old man sighed. 

{In response to What Pegman Saw: Frankfurt, Germany}