To write a letter (part 2)

It’s the same letter
Addressed to me,
I haven’t answered it yet,
The question was who to answer it to,
Someone said send it to the winds,
I tried to write as told,
But in vain it went,
And the wind these days
Passing the other way,
No more in love with me you see,
It’s warm in here,
Not the kind of warmth one likes,
but the uneasy ones.


The letter, the letter,
It’s killing me,
Not a line written,
Not a sender found,
Am in between hustle and bustle,
The daily chores remain untouched,
The bedside table remains the same,
No more cleaning spree,
In case another such letter found.