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.