Her eyes flicker
as people run past
her gaze
the length
of summer grass.
let in the cats
till morning hovers
the place where we stopped
being strangers
Her CD collection
now & then
a glimpse of darkness
heatwaves on my palm
I hold it under water
the grinding, spinning world
under my feet.
late evening
our courtship
heads south.
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Published by Rijul Ballal
There’s poetry in every cloud and a story behind every leaf that flutters down.
We’re all nomads under the eternal blue sky. Check out my work on rijul ballal.wordpress.com, like, comment and subscribe :)
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