The poem for Y
X and Y. Based on a true life incident.
X was in absolute awe of Y. When X was born, Y had picked him up and had blessed him. When X reached high school he got into some social work which often meant meeting Y. X used to sometimes wait hours to get just a glimpse of Y. X in his irregular meetings asked Y all sorts of questions which always amused Y.
As Y was very old now, X did not get to meet Y often. X one day wrote a poem .. a 12 line poem in honor of the now terminally ill Y. He had never written a poem before and felt proud. X always carried this poem in his wallet .. always. His friends did not understand and pulled his legs. One day, X managed to visit Y in hospital and read out the poem to Y, who unfortunately was not listening. Nevertheless, X felt happy
And arrived the fateful night. Doctors had given up hope and it was feared Y would be dead soon. It was midnight and X was watching US Open ladies singles final on TV. He suddenly felt uneasy and queer. He did not understand why.
Next morning news came that Y had died in the night ..around midnight. X was crestfallen. However, it was the completely unexplained disappearance of the poem from his wallet which totally wracked X’s nerves. The piece of paper just vanished the day Y died.
PS: I am truly glad X found me the ‘right person’ to share his long kept secret. My belief in the supernatural/occult has become stronger/enriched. Y is Mother Teresa.
X was in absolute awe of Y. When X was born, Y had picked him up and had blessed him. When X reached high school he got into some social work which often meant meeting Y. X used to sometimes wait hours to get just a glimpse of Y. X in his irregular meetings asked Y all sorts of questions which always amused Y.
As Y was very old now, X did not get to meet Y often. X one day wrote a poem .. a 12 line poem in honor of the now terminally ill Y. He had never written a poem before and felt proud. X always carried this poem in his wallet .. always. His friends did not understand and pulled his legs. One day, X managed to visit Y in hospital and read out the poem to Y, who unfortunately was not listening. Nevertheless, X felt happy
And arrived the fateful night. Doctors had given up hope and it was feared Y would be dead soon. It was midnight and X was watching US Open ladies singles final on TV. He suddenly felt uneasy and queer. He did not understand why.
Next morning news came that Y had died in the night ..around midnight. X was crestfallen. However, it was the completely unexplained disappearance of the poem from his wallet which totally wracked X’s nerves. The piece of paper just vanished the day Y died.
PS: I am truly glad X found me the ‘right person’ to share his long kept secret. My belief in the supernatural/occult has become stronger/enriched. Y is Mother Teresa.
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