Running your fingers through my tresses,
Tresses that have grayed with time,
You search for stars, while
My eyes anxiously follow your penetrating gaze,
To spot any disappointment which may be mine.
Burying your face in them, you whisper,
‘The stars though camouflaged with time ,
Still retain their dazzling shine,
And I am ready to live through thousand hells
to keep them in the world of mine.’
A warm drop, just then ,
Touches and streams down my nape,
And I knew those lips
hadn’t faked a single line.
@ Bilquis Fatima.