
as the sun goes down
and waves come closer
with the rising tide
I see your shadow
receding
and the sound
of your goodbye
drowns
in the shrill cry
of seagulls
making their way
like you
to places I cannot follow
until someday . . .
I can fly
© Neetu Malik

Shall we dip our brush
in the deep blue dusk
so we may paint joy
we stole from
the passing day
before it grows dark?
No, I think I would rather
wait for the red sun
to draw bright rays
across our canvas
and let them dry
into permanence.
© Neetu Malik
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