Stirring of the Dead at Night

-
The voice raises a bar,
and fades away again
into the alleys of time
The eyes that saw your face
over mine turn the glance,
look away, hide away.
Love is love,
where can it go?
It stays...it always stays
I hunt to feel
and fail once more,
but the feel I felt
is far away,
underneath the rocks,
below the surface grain,
over the polished pebbles
that the river steals every day
Like your memory
and your song,
that sometimes,
unwittingly make me realise,
the river has turned its course,
but the shore still stays the same.

Comments

Mampi said…
...a shore is a shore only till the river passes by it.
Wednesday, 06 August, 2008
Anonymous said…
hushhh.. you can't hurry love - Phil Collin's ki mummy ne bola hai!

(the singer is flat, but do you know the lyrics?)

so no think so much!
good morning!!
Wednesday, 06 August, 2008
A Arora said…
mampi: a shore could be close to the river, the lake or the sea. the tide defines what the shore becomes...

mr bo: who's talking abt hurrying love at all? this is merely a recognition that once known love can make even the tiredest of most smile at just the memory of it..that's the thing abt love..it doesn't change shape or form, neither does it subside. it only forgets how to speak after a while...
Wednesday, 06 August, 2008
Anonymous said…
sowie. i miss-read it entirely.
i took love to be 'love' in general. not just the love for him..
Wednesday, 06 August, 2008
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