the gift of you

pardon me if i sleep so tightly at night. you say the moon felt forlorn unwatched by us. but that same moon was where we danced when the seven stars lit the stage of dreams we had. i dont worry of the many words i missed to say or failed to hear, because every time the curtains fall, a day ends, i hear you with the softness of a voice unsung, humming a note you have yet to finish, a poem i have yet to write..

i never kept count of the 365 ways you have shown your love, but i know they were enough to keep me strong whole year round. and then a few days more, i know, the sun will keep coming, finding a place for you, of you each time...

love

even after the pages

of this chapter have been

turned, or burnt...

the scent shall linger,

as would the images of laughter...

points in our lives

where we created,

tangents...dreams

we lived for a day or two...

dancing to the hymn

of fate's musings..

that single thread that holds,

us,

together..

borrowed song...

there are moments
no poem can capture
words pale against
night sky's glitters

there are times when
the world stood
still, a witness
to an old miracle

there are wishes
we pray, in stark faith
of the past unheard
of morrows we borrow

how does a good poem end?

i have not seen them do
much as i have
tried, to capture a fragrant petal
cried of loss
in my hands, stained a page
in my book, unknown words
yearned, to be spoken forever
faded, now...

i have seen them, cradled
half remembered dreams, only
to wake from a slumber
yet to start, of longing drenched
with the stench of truths,
of  truths revealed with
promises that pierced hope,
belittled, lies

you write one with de-thorned brilliance
paving the path to morrows
where the sun doesnt burn
and waters wont drown

i have gone
halfway, perhaps, scared
of the light i see far down, as
it blinds, almost, while the music
thumps deafeningly, stifled breath
yearning freedom

would you stay? keep hold of faith
for me, to the end
show me why...tell me?
how good a poem ends
like this one
you have started
writing, now..

wistful musings

had it been another day
im sure we could
watch it end, together
as the birds settle
their nests atop the tree
where we wrote our names

had it been another night
we would have tossed stars
back and forth, basked in their
brilliance, never flicker
never, before they die
the last breath
of yours and mine

had it been another life
not these that we have, cursed
with togetherness that is bound
to end at twilight...
dreams would come, rising
above what cannot be
then we shall
be one..eternal