And drenching in the moonlit, looking at the crescent ball endlessly, thinking you must have done your bit of gazing not too long ago from the other side of the world, I smiled.

We don’t converse, but the silent whispers flowing down in the blithe night from up above is enough to keep my hopes alive. The moment, when we will accost each other in an ecstatic splendor. And thinking about such possibilities, I survive even in such lonely nights.

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

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