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Poem: Tender

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  • Can I hold your finger tight,
  • Like a thread binding lost constellations,
  • To connect with your vein —

the river where your soul flows?

  • It’s raining.
  • Shall we dance like before —
  • two autumn leaves,
spinning in a wind of memory,
  • gazing into each other’s eyes?

  • I feel your scent —
  • the echo of a vanished spring.
  • My senses turn tender,

like petals under moonlight.

  • Are you still there —
  • Where I bare my soul,
  • like pages waiting for ink,

like silence waiting to be named?

  • But the moment had flown,
  • The rain had slowed.
  • Someone knocked —
  • hush against my heartbeat,
  • Whispering softly...
  • The time has gone.

You're late.

— Sweety Barnwal


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