We meet, fall in love, breathe the perfume of nature, and depart considering of the final time we met.
The Love Song
Let’s go, sit by
the financial institution of river
Breathing within the
perfume of nature
Wordlessly,
Our arms entwined,
splendidly,
Our flushed cheeks
take in the warmth
of our stolen glances,
as we take heed to
the love track
nature sings…
The Last Time We
Met
Crisp autumn morning
The silvery sunshine,
filtering by means of the golden leaves
contact my arms
making patterns
As I transfer my finger
And write your
identify on my palm.
Gentle breeze caress
my cheek
I shut my eyes,
And for a second
I really feel that gentle
contact of your lips
When you kissed
me
The final time we met.
(Tarang Sinha is a bilingual author printed by Juggernaut Book, translator printed by Westland Books, e-book reviewer and a self-taught artist. Her writings have been printed in magazines like Good Housekeeping India, Child India, Woman’s Era and New Woman)
https://www.outlookindia.com/culture-society/poems-songs-of-love-and-the-crispness-of-autumn–weekender_story-222574
