Hazzaron Khwaishein Aisi....

To think it is a piano

and we,

creators of a silent music

We – you & I.

Not yours not mine

ours alone

Woebegone

pastover evening tea

Laughable – un

Timorous lips

Verbose, sore and

then sealed

Bread for a hungry stomach

Not even sympathy for an empty soul

Unjust? Who?

Drop-dripper

Patter-pitter

The roof leaks

and the skyof the stars

Brush my hair

and plait them.

A string of little, white flowers

Make tea

make memories

make stars shoot

make love

Fall in – fit out

Write down – rise up

Finger dance

alternate together

a little music

of silent fame

bas ek ilteja (just one request)