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