Fledgling









Fledgling


Gone are the months and years
when I would compare your coming
With the coming of rains;
Monsoon-
our favourite season,
stashed between old books like yellowed letters,
is just respite now.
The heat is gone, 
The draining pulse of a fledgling love fades
With the drying of every puddle.
Our houses are close by,
But our worlds, far apart. 
Perhaps when the earth is full of water
and it doesn't rain anymore,
we might meet on an island where we will always be the children that we were,
when we first met.
 
Proiti Seal Acharya
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Comments

Popular Posts