Poetry

The Days Of My Youth Are Waiting For Thee.

These morning birds,
Chirping in the woods,
And flowers blooming for the bees,
All tease me, all tease me,
How shall I respond?
My lonely mornings are helpless,
I falter when I see, thee, not by my side,
But hanging on the other wall,
With a sweet but a stagnant smile,
Preserved forever,
And a catastrophic silence,
That shall last forever,
For I shall do what?
To get you by my side,
Back in my life.

My soul is burning in the fire you lit,
And my life burning, craving for, thee,
The days of my youth,
Are waiting for thee.

When the night falls,
Ghosts of your memories
Quell me, I roam about
Here and there, hoping to see thee,
In the dark night,
When moonlight lit up my room,
On the couch there, in the corner,
Lying in peace, I see thee,
Waiting for me,
For what shall I do?
To get back, by my side.

I remember those days,
When your body, undulated,
To the rhythm of our love,
And I kissed you hard,
In a frenzy of love.
The soul is starving today,
My heart writhing in pain,
Reminiscing those days,
Is good for a moment or two,
But throws me into fathomless pain,
My soul is burning in the fire you lit,
And my life burning, craving for, thee,
The days of my youth,
Are waiting for, thee,
The days of my youth,
Are waiting for thee.