The Eternal wait….

Along the edges
of her modest dreams,
she spins
the purity of sacred love,
as the gentle zephyr sings
the songs of an Indian touch,
She exudes the perfume
of sweet plumeria
and a tender touch
of raw cardamom mix,
Long dark silky tresses
tamed by jasmine fixed,
The colors of her sari spreads
into the blush
of a vermilion bride
Her shivering simple shyness
caressed
her blooming heart which
sighed
Bright sprinkles
of a poet’s brush
swish ballet
for her eyes
stuttering to capture
the moment when
black diamonds cry,
a mystic shroud encircles
sliver of kajal on her lids
the antonym of doubt
in all innocence she lives.
Floats she like a wave
as if reaching for the moon
and the fullness of it’s glow
pines for the aura of her bloom.

She sits at the lonely station
peering straight at the tracks
laid so silently to rest,
continuous parallels
break her heart in cracks,
Two stubborn lines
run a restless marathon,
the destination lost
myths of a meeting-point wrong.
The wait is ceaseless
as she longs in her solitude,
train after train
to de-hypnotise her prelude,
for the dawn of that face
she still feels but cannot touch
as ever so helpless in fate’s clutch.
She waits and waits and waits…
for her soul mate who had to leave
to the call of duty,
and forbidden was she to grieve
He would not come, he would not come…
and it had been
so many empty months,
But how could she not wait?
And keep waiting everyday
For he had made a promise
to fulfill everything said.
It was the vow of a soldier
and she breathed each day for this
for her groom to return
like not a second had been missed.