I want to write down a poem
for you with my lips
upon your midnight breath.
But I won't paint you
with my summertime blues.
I would paint you
upon the yellow bricks
in my heart.
You'd be counting
my helicopters
while I'd be painting
another sky
for your amber eyes
of hope.
I'd be building my castles
upon your mountains.
You'd be watering flowers
in the garden
of your heart.
I'm just some food
to your silence,
surrounded by
your fireflies.
You are not forgotten.

© Soumojit Dutta