Before the New Sun Rises

Book-and-bougainvillea

Am I doing the cliché,
looking at a poem, and thinking of you?

Did I make you smile, bitterly,
Looking at this poem, and thinking of me?

There are two magical words in the language of poets:
Qurbat, is one.
You’d know, I’m near.
I had to leave,
The part of me behind,
The one that could not stop loving you.
Moajza, is the second.
It is nothing short of a miracle.
To have my heart pried open,
By a year that is passing.

I looked at a poem,
And I thought of you.

This entry was published on December 31, 2015 at 23:00. It’s filed under Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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