Last night you went away, after we made love...
When I was still asleep, holding you...
You pulled away your white skirt from my lips,
Lips which left their imprints on the edge of your skirt...
After that, I searched for you...everywhere...
Frantically, i looked for you in all our favourite places
And found no traces...of your visit there.
Then, all the places i have ever been to, in this city,
all the streets and by-lanes...and far off groves
I didn't spare the sky either...

I asked some of your friends,
Who wore starry smiles on their faces,
but didn’t tell me where you were...
Late in the evening, when i got tired looking for you,
i headed back home...with disappointment and hope...
A solemn silence descended into my street...radiant.
And I met one fair beautiful lady with few blotches on her cheek...
She claimed that she was your neighbour,
And told me that you would return to my room in the night...

It is night now and I am waiting for you,
A breeze just entered my room, carrying your fragrance,
earthly...yet ethereal, stimulating...yet intoxicating...
I just heard your foot-falls..and their echoes...
The music of your pattering feet...delicate...
With all my eagerness, I came out to greet you...
At last it is raining...
At last it is raining...and I feel you are hugging me...
I am with you When I am in rain...
Come in...Lets make love again...

When my thoughts falter my speech,
it is only you i approach, i seek...
Together we walk in my world,
in search of those images and thoughts...
unchained...but broken, ingrained...but spoken,
draped in the robes you gave them...

Dear friend, i see you as an image, now and then,
understood, and felt, yet not completely...
like those vibrant tunes of heart, muffled...
like those after-glows of evening lamps, just put off...
I see many great things, in you,
all fashioned themselves in your profoundity,
wearing your robes and singing your songs...

With Peace as your breath,
and beauty as your soul,
you continue to stir inside me,
a soulful of solitude which transfixes me,
and then liberates through a thought i nurture,
by weaving few words for it, to make it a verse...
unchained...but broken, ingrained...but spoken...

i must thank you for being there...
in my world, in me and somewhere in my verses,
for they have in them, your pulse...
cover them with your robes...my dear silence...