Sunday, July 4, 2010

The days that went by

The days that went by
when the wind was dead,
And i walked with people 
outside my door,
 the scattered drops on the glass ,
with my fingers
i drew your face
and made something
which you never were. 

Artists make mistakes,
But I wrote a poetry of seven and half lies
And now am ,
Sleeping with a wet letter
All your names and my sign,
unread, untouched truths inside,

May be ,
you will open it after ages,
that which was a mistake once
will end up as a sin of present.

the days that are to come,
I still feel the wind is dead,
But you are walking with me,
with open doors,
giving me a shelter from rain,
when I never shared a sun,
 the scattered drops on the glass ,
with your fingers
you draw my face
and turn the water into a me
which i never can be. 

1 comment:

  1. . you sparkle in these lucid drops of scattered water ... the picture is more than amazing ... i write 'em too ... them unread letters ... not in the hope that they'll be read ... but with the belief that when they are read ... the fire within will quench the silence within ... an overwhelming read ...

    - serah