We came clenching our unformed fists into fatelines
I held up my palm against yours wishing it entwines
Drum rolls, shivers in the spine, golden autumn rays
Scars on your skin, all sing in unheard tuneless ways
But what about those dark spaces in our music?
At a distance I crave for a two-syllabled sweet moon
Raindrop pitched murmurs on a long-lost parched tune
Your skin that erupts in a million smiles at my touch
dark oval moles spewing perfumes of earth and such
But would you look up from your mirror?
In silence I watch the moon drape a saree of light
Which her stealthy sun sent through his secret sprite
She danced with twenty-seven stars, each night anew
And here and now waits for a lone glimpse of you
But who has time for the stars?
No comments:
Post a Comment