Was it a winter soiree where we met?
Or did you ask for a light?
How did we meet?
I’m browsing through the remains of our memory
In different compartments…
All the time I floundered this chunk of memory
I was reminded of our walks – an evening stroll
On Max Mueller Marg
We both walking hand-in-hand
You will always have a sweaty palm,
And I’d complaint teasingly
A slap on my shoulder
And “Go Away!” would be your response.
I’ll pull you towards me
And Kiss you, openly
Bold enough in the times of 377
Now that you’re not here
I investigate my palm…
I see some reminiscence of your sweat.
I’ve you, here,
Hidden, in my fortune line.
I light a ‘Clove’ and your
Remains evaporate with the smoke
In the end, we are United…
|United – Post 377|