
your breath on my cheek,
as I hold you close to me,
silken infancy
it was the breeze, or
maybe the brush of your touch,
long lost, yet with me
father holds my hand
between life and death, an ache
forged in memory
©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?
all I hear is this song…
carried to my ears upon waves
as they ebb and return
a symphony of love
played on instruments
of the heart—
I wait eagerly
for absolute darkness
to lose my shadow
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