He waits
perpetually and forever,
for a renaissance of love and peace,
for an embrace,
where there wouldn’t be any verdict;
for a time,
when he wouldn’t be asked to prove.
Sitting at his secret corner, at the roof top,
among the mute antics of the bats,
walking along the crowd that frenzy past him,
getting drenched in a torrential downpour,
or sitting forlorn in his cluttered room;
while fighting a battle of words,
trying to establish or justify non stop,
or later, even while making love to his beloved,
he waits
eternally, always,
for one understanding,
for one precious moment
to lose himself in a hold, in a cuddle
of arms that are
opinion less,
judgment less.
perpetually and forever,
for a renaissance of love and peace,
for an embrace,
where there wouldn’t be any verdict;
for a time,
when he wouldn’t be asked to prove.
Sitting at his secret corner, at the roof top,
among the mute antics of the bats,
walking along the crowd that frenzy past him,
getting drenched in a torrential downpour,
or sitting forlorn in his cluttered room;
while fighting a battle of words,
trying to establish or justify non stop,
or later, even while making love to his beloved,
he waits
eternally, always,
for one understanding,
for one precious moment
to lose himself in a hold, in a cuddle
of arms that are
opinion less,
judgment less.
2 comments:
A very touching and sensitive write. I am sure the little lost soul hears the following, words that makes his wait enduring..
Baby, we may not be
the best of what we are,
we may not talk often.
I just want you to know
that no matter
how difficult things can be...
In the long run
You will still have me..
Your poetry makes one think and ponder.. this one brought about the child in me and i recall vividly how i felt at times. Thank you madame. Please write more.
@ Bhaskar ... a warm and loving smile. :)
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