All alone he was searching at the bookstore,
Looking for a post card to send across.
Some had pictures of places that were old and famous.
The beach, the monuments and snapshots of streets,
Portraits and caricatures of eminent people.
And some had vivid paintings from painters of great fame.
Some carried a few lines from templates
That looked sweet, fine and clichéd.
After dusk, a few more hours;
Flipping through the racks, high and low;
There wasn’t even one that awed him at a single glance.
More than a few hundreds he scanned but nothing could complement her.
Not that she was too hard to please.
It’s just that he couldn’t make up his mind.
Though the choices were many
That special one he couldn’t really find.
So he settled to put this exclusive scribble
Behind a plain post card.