Another morning brings us to this place
Where we first met, hiding from the gaze of those
Whose minds were narrow as the streets
Of this ancient city soaked in history
Except for smiling, elderly women on charpoys
Knitting warm tales of love in winter light–
You survived the butterflies in your stomach
And I, the bulls in my china shop:
Our eyes could sense the truth behind white lies–
But we did not allow the ravenous silence
Between our cities to eat away our lives:
Frowned upon nocturnal calls to your abode
Gave me the chance to embrace you with my voice
And caress you with my words:
You listened to my pauses and you understood–
You said:” I am here ” and still, my love, you are.
An entrancing and poignant work.
Thank you very much,Louis.
Wonderful poem.!’ Very heart-touching. I guess now there are less minds as narrow as the streets
in all countries.
Thank you so much,dear Vatsala.
Beautifully and intricately woven thought.. !!
Thank you,dear Monika.
Echoes from the well of time
caught and preserved
in these lines
that flow—
like the Ganges.
Thank you very much,Sunil Sharma.