To Zenia

When from the rosy cheeks of morn
sunlight beams in heaven’s eyes,
I think, I pray, with all my might
that the earth beneath my feet
glowing with the warm blush of youth
makes you feel all I want to say
of love, of innocence and friendship deep.

When the tints from twilight burn
like hot tears onto feverish skin,
I know that what I feel within
is duskier than my living dust
and heavier than your spirit free.

When darkness drifts in grassy plots,
the carefree skip along
till in the gloom they trip and fall; their petals plucked away,

Flowers no more to be.

(This poem, written in 2003 is dedicated to the memory of a childhood friend “Zenia’ who passed away in a fatal road accident in Karachi, Pakistan.)

11.45 A.M


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