Why?

As i turn over the pages,
your face shows up,
somewhere on the other side.
Why?

A lot of our story still exists here, unfinished.
smiles & joys, woven along,
with seething silences sometimes.
all etched here and there,
carrying the burden of remembrances.
these blank pages,
fragranced by each of them,
like those from an old book.
Yet, these black doodles become dry,
and at times, seem to invoke fire.
Why?

Strange!that it is only in my dream-I have seen you
and i still wake up with moist eyes.
Why?