Through the cold winter evening the patient lover awaits for his beautiful lover to come from her grave. On the old wooden bench he waits weeping all alone through the cold winter, he shivers so patient but unwise.
Doesn't he know? That never ever will his beautiful lover come out of her grave! Everything fades away, fades to black.
Night falls... He wants not to go home but his family calls Take your time love, need not worry for I will come for you tomorrow.
In the morning, he would go to her grave again with flowers and love that would go to waste again. Is he out of his mind? Till when will he wait for her? Until the winter passes. Until the spring and summer have gone. Until she calls. Yes, until Autumn falls.
Until the leaves turn brown and fall. Until I grow old and Autumn falls Until I die, and she calls Until the magical spell of love breaks and falls. Yes, I will wait, until Autumn falls.
Well, I am lost for words that someone as young and still in his 9th grade, Tushar, could create such majesty of words that is so touching and moves the soul to go out and feel the pain of the central character. So wonderfully written is this poem that the readers could get urges to live the same moment, be it as tragic as a love lost to the call of death. The words are wonderfully scripted to depict the depth of love, a true, unadulterated love than someone as pure as in his early youth could feel and yearn to live through, and are so flawless and flowing and written with maturity beyond his age. I am totally awed. I would definite give all my money's worth to have Tushar write some more and give more time to his scripture of poems. Good Job, Tushu!!! :)
