Wednesday, May 29, 2013

If

If love were made of little things
it'd be so easy to give and receive,
we won't trade our lives with some
'paradise' (there'd be no such need 
to deceive). The trouble, most often,
in love is that - we ask of little things 
too much, why should little things of
little size have to stand in, it seems,
for the breathlessness of our dreams?
Why should his hand held necessarily
take us 'deep into the night'? Why
should his eyes be always lit with
some god-forsaken 'light'? Is it
not enough (it's only decent!) for
our peevish hearts to melt, seeing
that - despite everything in the
world - still our hands are held.

3 comments:

K said...

How beautifully put!

K said...

How beautifully put!

Anonymous said...

such brilliant poetry! makes me cry!