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 meadows and pines...A lane forgotten by time
Like a memory, Like a promise

By: Kshitij Sinha
10/03/2022

 

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