I found out this poem recently when I was cleaning my shelf.. I
was thinking that I had lost it long ago... I wrote this when I was a student and that time my favorite topic for poems was rain..
The road was nothing, but
a tattered black ribbon.
And, the wind was blowing
in a rush to dry us more.
We were then sitting on that bench
which watches the horizon at its best.
My eyes met his, but my
love couldn't flow into them.
As it was dry as my trembling lips
and as dense as the silence between us.
I wished to touch him, but
I had to hold my waving hair.
We wished to sit closer
but, the sweat had wetted our arms.
I saw him hiding a rose
behind his pocket, close to his chest.
But, it had lost more of its colour
than of its freshness.
Thus each second struggled
to make its way beyond our hold.
I was patting him gently
and I saw , a group of clouds
moving in the sky.
The wind was gentle
and was more as a breeze,
which had come to our lives
