Yearning
I glisten in tears
like an April dawn,
covered in dew
like blades of grass,
whispering notes
like softly falling raindrops,
I call your name
like one who is lost –
listen achingly for the sound
of your answering call.
© Neetu Malik
-
I was leaning
by the window
standing outside
looking in— -
by the river
he looks lost
his face appears ancient
in rumination
under the sycamores’
embracing shade
thinks he might see
God -
your breath on my cheek,
as I hold you close to me,
silken infancy -
in a brief burst
of fiery red and gold
we burned…. -
Paris, they say,
is beautiful
when it rains—
now I know.
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