Unsung whispers (poem)

And she sang slowly.
Of men who stayed boys.
Little violins in her heart
breathed long whispers
-her ode to the days when
when hopes were facts.
And joys were in abundance.
Blessed by the energy of youth
and an innocence that knew
nothing other than love.

Now there is history on her face.
If you could only read wrinkles
and eavesdrop
on gentle sighs

--N.Madhavan, 2015