Wednesday, August 2, 2017

The Lost Poem

One day I will fly away
a sad letter
on a blue paper-
watch you from afar
that brow
those trembling lashes

you will look up
squint your eyes
against the dazzle of the sun
and see me there

my yellowed self
my withered self :
stuck on your window pane-

you will push your chair
throw away your pen
and rush to the window-

then gently
very gently
you will
 pick me up from the glass
and place me on your palm-
my yellowed, withered, trembling self.

'Love, my love'
you will whisper...

cupped between your palms.
I will slowly
rise from my autumn sleep

the yellow will go
the wither will go
the cold will go.

I will flutter my wings
that were
brittle with time and pain
and dance
a slow waltz

breathe again
in your hands.


© Nazia Mallick

No comments: