Without crossing the groundsill,
without dropping the bounties,
standing in your roofless house,
my eyes are watching arid clouds.
The bloom of youth no longer blooms,
has lost fragrance in your absence;
With some hope still in my heart and
an eternal wait in fate, I’m in your land.
But surely, the wind is in my favour,
this sky with open arms harbours;
They never block my path leading to you
nor abandons me and my search for you.
A wait so primal but so pristine,
a longing so tiring still clinging;
In an endless procession of nothingness,
one’s absence becomes one’s presence.
Copyright © November 2019 DrNikhat Bano All rights reservedff