Sandy tales (part 2)

The sound of your anklets

caressing the heated sand,

The playful wind wiping

your tears before they

touch the rusty land,

bring them to me-

I feel them within

the crevices of my

harrowed palms.

I revive the same agony

that beseech you, my dear,

My flute makes no sound now

no tunes ever come out

of that empty reed,

my tired hands, incapable

of balance, incapable of

forging love out of it.

Those downcast eyes of yours,

dark and deep within

glimpse through your veil.

I see you in my dreams now

waiting every passing day

to start my journey to you:

the wait that finishes at dusk

on your part, my love

starts with dawn on mine,

Those years we traveled

together on this earth,

Those aeons we have loved,

will not end in vain-

your wait merges with my essence;

In our wait, we are One:

your heart where I reside,

that very heart is Mine forever...

*(The young man now lives in the city for work, away from his love. Every day, he counts when he will meet her. In their wait, they are together.)

By Nandini Sengupta

@metaphors_of_life