फस्स ऑफ़ love

Faces of Love

Two faces become one face and I cannot tell the difference.
And from a distance hear a murmour, Anne Margret. But it
can’t be possible her name goes back 40 years, why should
I think of her now? In my wife’s face I see Anne’s, her smile
and warm brown eyes. Perhaps I have been sleep walking
all those years, just woke up and realize that my Anne never
left me. No, it can’t be like this, I look at my wife’s picture,
she is now different from Anne’s, but she has brown eyes too
and a secret smile in her eyes. Could it be I have transferred
my love for Anne to all the women I have loved? There is but
one love and her name is Anne? I look at my wife’s picture
and say:” Darling I will never leave you.”