It’s a great conversation when it begins
Hands slide into each other, deeper into pockets between conspiratorial mists of time
It’s a Delhi of deep love.
Achingly, they kiss away the night, hoping for a beautiful sunrise.
It comes mottled with fog, unblinkingly severe,
Lost, the hands refrain from touch,
when they do it’s in a clammy embrace.
The skin parts without love, and treachery unfolds.
It’s a Delhi winter of deep despair.
Hands slide into each other, deeper into pockets between conspiratorial mists of time
It’s a Delhi of deep love.
Achingly, they kiss away the night, hoping for a beautiful sunrise.
It comes mottled with fog, unblinkingly severe,
Lost, the hands refrain from touch,
when they do it’s in a clammy embrace.
The skin parts without love, and treachery unfolds.
It’s a Delhi winter of deep despair.
No comments:
Post a Comment