Snowflakes, lightning, ferns and what not has been seen, unvalued by this heart
Yet that one time it kept its very beating increased to one level to keep it constant, in a loop.
A fractal, valued for once
For eyes as if the very birth of beauty.

Velvet sheets, crumpled.
With strawberry scents from her lips, beneath
Even though she was not there.

Wandering through little sunshine in hues of honey
I waited for her under falling maple leaves,
'round the dead poets' verses that
were blown away by the wind
I waited to write her my own verses,
To sing her a romantic evening.

I waited until the little warm breezes kissed me goodbye,
The cold zephyr dried my eyes,
Until the moon itself asked me to leave with it brightening the sky,
I waited until she never came.

~~
Collecting my verses, I picked up a rose
Its scent brought back hers,
I gripped it tight
Buried it deep, inside my heart; half dead.

Walking through lonely streets
I sang myself erratic melodies
Until my feet led me to the dead poets' place again
I sat down, settling my verses
on cliffs of leaves about to fall.

I leafed through my heart
For her
I wasn't expecting her to stay in there
Until I picked her up, off the cold.
Sharp tears gushed out my blank eyes
The leaves fell off in the end
Love bid me goodbye;
My dead rose caused broken verses.

© Shreyashree Rai