Jyothy Sreedhar

The rain...

The sky is concealed

and I love black.

I hear the taps of raindrops

drizzling down from yesters…

The gentle breeze that touches

the tiny smooth hairs in my face

airs the breaths from a far off land.

It takes my dreams

to the zenith of its absence.

The rain waits…

All alone I stand in the open terrace.

My loneliness beside me undisturbed.

The night gets lit up by a sweet moon.

The light cracks in between the blanket

as two eyes in a dark face.

There…those flowers…those white jasmines,

will spread their fragrance

in an unknown hour of this night…

I wont wake up then

but it will come to me

as the smell of my dream dear.

My eyes move up, as my hairs wave up,

With every dream i hug myself tighter

with my arms enclosing a passion alien.

The rare milky path lifts up my face

and the twinkles blink playfully.

The breeze is romantic still

patting my face, going backwards…

And the rain waits.

My long skirt flows and ripples,

parallel to my untied hair…

The breeze passes me

with exciting flaps.

It whispers love into my ears.

My desire moves forward…

I shrug.

Music is heard with divine notes.

I dance in my eyes, with my loneliness,

my dreams and desire…

Some losses get restored,

some losses peak up…

Some reminders put aside,

some memories recollected…

The rain showers down

with heavy drops numerous

each with variants of a fantasy,

making me dance,

making me sing,

making me insane,

with visions of a mirage.

Did the rain wait

or did I wait for it?

The sky gets concealed.

And I love black.