I move in this distant land
Shimmying down familiar lanes,
The streetlamps unabashedly look on,
The moths circle the flame;
The moon has dipped further
And the night is so still,
I wonder if it’s alive;
I can feel its pulse
Only when the wind shifts places;
The vicissitude grips me,
There are days you lie dormant
And I like an abandoned and hunger-stricken child,
Forage through pieces of leftover memories
To satiate the appetite;
This quiet between us,
It begs to be fed,
To be nourished,
I long for
The cacophony, the rumble;
Anything, even chaos
Some sign that you have arrived;
I leave the door ajar,
I let the wind carry your name
So that when it returns,
It might bring with it something
The essence of you, a whiff,
Anything, just anything
I can claim.
R.S. is a denizen of Delhi, India who writes Poetry to find harmony in life. She had fallen in love with versing during her days as a student of literature. She rises early to feel inspired with the morning star and create new rhymes.