I meet her not too often
few hours of freshness
after many months of wait
and yet her thoughts keep burning within
rekindling hope
nurturing love
weaving possibilities
till we meet again

But when the time arrives
I forget all my plans in a trice
for I am lost in her ensemble
her deep luscious eyes
her meandering talks
lost in everything she does
or chose not to do
and, I like a fool
blabber anything but love

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

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