The Mt Kenya Times 
My Dearest Tewksbury,
I hope this letter makes your heart overwhelmingly relish and embellish with glory and grace. It`s something especial and unsaid, unheard, I’m going to tell-tale. As, it wasn`t that beloved to me right before I stuck into a soul with a reflection of my own self, the missing piece I often reckon. And you know, what`s that beloved thing is? That`s this month of June. The melodious, the start of sizzles, the fumes of togetherness. While right back in February, the month of love and fragrance, I was where I meant to be, something that was fated and desperately fated for a fragile. I often astonished that the gap in my academia was up to fill once again. The space that was injurious that way. I was on the place where the fate clutch tightly but still barrenness, emptiness was a profound stance stitched to my soul. I was still under wrenching psychological dismantledness, but I breathed and leered. I was a wondering falcon, searching for tranquility, wrenched my veins were, stiffed my eyes were under that twilight. Yet, my believe was to serve mortality, to live and love, to be seated and eavesdrop. The time conceded swiftly, it was still continuous and I was still fleeting myself through it, like am whirling along the waves of a profound ocean. All of sudden? no it was fated. Yes. It was artistically fated. The spring knocked at my door, the flowers bloomed up, the fragrance swung and the rainbow came over. The sizzling summer was shifted away. The breeze enfolded me up in saccharinity, mellifluousness, I was someone who forget the sensations of delightfulness and keenness. One who was nearly drowned nevertheless then one who embraces my existence, my entire presence. One who become the dearest of all chosen spirits, I attached with. I choose spirits. I select the most selected ones, I believe in authenticity, worth-engaging sensibility. I clipped someone sweet as honey, soft as pearl, blink as bright, more than that was exceptional, intellectual and disciplined, one who envelops in a well enthralled appearance. One who becomes arena. Moreover, become the eyes when I glimpse and glance, the lips when I whisper and murmur, the heart when I breathe and beat, the ears when I hear and ear, the strokes when I used to live and love, the words when I move my jaws and gums, the name when it is recalled and called. Often think of you. Questioned. Are you a fragrance, I sniff infinitely? a color that colored my uncolored voyage? Are you a cloud, that shelter my effected rays? Are you a skin care, I applied intensively? Tewksbury! You are for sure something comes from heaven, you are for sure something comes from heaven, fated for an acquitted petal. I`m not demanding flowers, for me, you the precious, and pure scented-flower. I haven`t desire for luxuries because I have something worth-expensive. Yes. You are the worthiest. One I write immediately, one that remains in my expressions as a breathable stance, one that wisps with the confrontations and imageries, I inculcate and elucidate in my poetry. My muse, my melody, my reflection. Tewksbury. You, the blessed blessing, the bright brilliance, the identity I got, the name I want.
For you, a thousand times over. For you, a thousand times over.
-Tajalla
Written By: Tajalla Qureshi
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