The deep, enchanting, pain that stirs my heart and quivers my soul,
Taking the form of a formless thought of yours,
Or shaping into an unending sleepless night,
Becoming the object of my thought while awake,
And the subject of my dreams while asleep,
Adding a touch of silent joy to moment of sorrow,
And a touch of sweet sadness to moments of joy.
The torturing, smoldering killing pain…is just pain?
Could it be…love?
The haunted look on your face haunts me still.
Oh how I wish, if only, I had met you on the first day of the spring.
Among the early morning chirps of the birds, walked with you on the dew-kissed grass.
Our feet bare, your hand in mine.
And had seen your pain filled smile,
Among the jasmines.
And then had gently taken your hands in mine
And looked into your sad longing eyes…unendingly.
But all that was not to be.
For I was to have just one haunting look of you,
Which haunts me still!
You do not remind me of the flaming red roses of my first love – when the sweet pain of her love had engulfed my life.
You do not remind me of the blooming daffodils of my second – when the fact that I existed was reaffirmed by her.
You do not remind me of the still violets of my third-when her hate turned to love and again to hate in moments.
You do not remind me of the scented jasmines of my last- when her haunted eyes seemed to haunt me forever.
You remind me of a sweet girl, with hazel eyes, and long hair, and a smile so winning, it will charm a stone.
You remind me,
The memory of life.
Of the days,
When life was not the game of,
When the theme of life meant
– The soft sound of your distant footsteps
– The breathtaking sight of raindrops kissing your lips
– The cool comforting touch of your gentle hands
– And the fragrance of your beautiful thoughts
When life was life
As it should be.