The ink and the quill


While my heart throbs in the
Misty mornings of winter
Thy soul snuggles for some warmth in my words
I paint the sky saffron embracing thou
 presence

 
Years ago
beside you under the mulberry tree
you had asked
while scribbling
my name on  dust of a storm
will thy  be mine
I had nodded
carving thou  inside deep notches

 
Births later
We sit and dream
Away from one another by  seven  seas
will there be a common sky
a single roof where 
you would be the ink and  I, the quill .

©soumya vimg_20161028_182637
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