whatever I wanted to write
they had already written

though, whatever i wanted to express
no one had ever felt

i didn't know that

i have read all they wrote and
thought they felt like i do

but when i sang my lines in the streets
Nobody stayed to listen for long

i found i was mistaken
i found i misunderstood

and then you came by
feet sore from the walking long
heart sore from the longest longing

my songs had ended
my breath had abated
but as you repeated the
wisp of the last line of my last song

i heard myself singing again
i hound myself alive again
only to be killed by your eyes
only to be buried in your heart

i thought it was the spring
but this time it stayed
i thought summer had been too long
And hoped the spring to do the same

and i flowered like the gulmohar
which the mooning wind had hugged last night
and wanted to tell the the flowery tale
to those who could keep a secret
and talk about it only in whispers
SKwrites SKwrites
41-45, M
Jan 20, 2013