Sitting on the concrete window platform,
Staring indistinctly at the distant tree,
My ears vaguely aware of the humming mill,
My senses lost in the spring air, fresh and free.
And what am I thinking?
Well, nothing…. To be plain.
I am just blank, just stale, just avidly inavid.
Overwhelmingly full, yet empty and insane.
It was not like this a year ago.
Oh! That moment is still fresh in me.
It was this same window brink…
It was the same mill and the same tree.
It was all the same, it still is.
But yet, every shred of every moment has changed.
Those green days witnessed my hands in yours.
Today’s autumn sees loneliness, a feel so estranged!
I remember having drowned myself in you,
Sitting under that lavish private green.
Having transgressed safely into the other world,
On losing my soul in your profound sheen.
What an ecstatic lightening it would be,
When you chose to touch me under my ribs,
I tell you, my love! I would bear it beyond my death,
Within my priced shame, without the slightest jibs.
The mellow in your eyes, the softness in their blink,
The warmth of your palms, the wetness of your kiss.
The cuddle in your chest, the strength of your arms,
The depth of your heart, what could be better a bliss?
I sit looking out in the space today,
Looking for that lost essence of love.
I swear I have searched for you in me.
I am left alone now, to sink in myself and stare above.