A Pity ...

When the fresh morning dew drops shine on the moist moss-green leaves,

you open your eyes like a saint's prayer and at that moment, you wish

to push away the lose tendril from my forehead,hold my face in your palm

and plant a morning kiss.

you want me to sit beside you sipping my early cup of tea as you would

browse through the news paper.

I know, you fancy seeing me moving like a vibrant butterfly, doing my chores,

as you would watch the television, leisurely.

You want me to open the door and smile when you come home, at end of the day,

fatigued, keeping up with the pace of the world.

But I sit here, at a far away distance, heaving sighs of romance and writing love notes for you;

when you long to be with me, all I could do is pledging eternal love, through my verses;

as you get more and more tired, caught up in an endless wait, craving for a change in permanence,

a long time ago, or this morning, as I sit in silence, trying to hold onto you,

all I could do is write an epic, talking about an undying abstract love,

a promise of a theoretical, intangible bonding.

a pity, indeed!