The Song of the Rain

I am saudadé,
strung together with the tears
Of a lost love song.
I am the mirth
Of children playing with paper boats,
Running wild and free—
Upon muddy fields.

I am the poems you always left unwritten;
I am the sighs,
The last goodbyes,
The longings of April afternoons:
Unkempt apologies and unheard sobs,
Heartbeats as slippery as moss.
I am the gravestone of unsaid words
that you buried deep in your heart.

You hear me—soft on your windowpane —
harsh on your heart.
Torrents down the awnings—
Tenderly splashing, singing
Familiar songs in strange notes, reverberating
through the paperback you seek shelter in.

I am saudadé, the smell of love
The petrichor that brings you back
Letters from the past.
I am the song of Rain—
Listen to me.

A Photograph of Déjà Vu

In the nothingness you left in my world,
When you left,
I found the shooting stars

From one summer evening.
The debris of my love, cleanly wrapped
In silence : You knew well

How the seashells would eventually become
Ashes of lonesome dusks.
Pixie dust on my bookshelf

Lies untouched. I haven't yet
Found leisure to read your letters
From places in our bucket list.

And yet, on some mornings, I wish
I could go back to sleep.
But instead, I end up leaving

Trails of memories, as I walk on
The secret road to the horizon
Where the earth finally meets the leaden sky.

Someday, the mirror will tire of my tears-
Someday, I will stop mid sentence.
Someday, I will tell you how it feels

To have taken a photograph of déjà vu.

Love Poem

The winds bring me your fragrance
As I sit by my window sill,
The tip of my pen meets the paper
And I write; I write until
I can no more express in words
The love I have for you.
I wonder, does God realize how great
A masterpiece He made in you?
The angels must've watched in disbelief
When you first opened your eyes
For I haven't seen in another pair
Reflections of fireflies.
And yet, somehow I know that I
Love you because you're free.
So I'll love you forever, till the end,
But you needn't belong to me.

The Yin and Yang

You are the raindrops splashing on a windowpane
And I, the flower by the sill;
You are the ocean, the surf, the waves
I’m the sands, silent and still.

You’re the soothing breeze of a summer evening,
The current in a waterfall;
And I’m the garden you caress in love,
The rocks upon which you fall.

You’re the melody of the Moonlight Sonata,
I am silence, the absence of a beat—
But there’s a piece of you in me and a piece of me in you,
And that’s what makes us complete.