As it rains in the meadows and pines
As it rains in the meadows and pines As it rains and as it drizzles I wonder in silence...my thoughts ambushed and stranded It's just me who they have allowed to enter A walk beyond the answers...What questions should I ask? Isn't that a question in itself It's just me whose presence I feel It's me alone...Next to the fire in solace Next to the stone calming the wrath of river Melting with the fresh snow...Rising with the sun In the warmth of your arms, my skin has turned pale It's the sickness I could avoid...Yet I refuse to be found On the porch tinkering...Hush as the waves I could sense a river...Ripples in the fragment of existence Somehow it's me in all the places both real and dreamt Somehow it's me in all the words both said and unsaid Somehow it's me and the transit...last in the queue I stand Is it how it feels to be lost and left Is it how it is to be in love with unknown Not just past perfect...but present continues As it rains in the mead...