‘Tis that time of the year again,
When we all bid farewell,
To the months that we lived.
For the months we will live,
For the year, on its way to ring in.
But for the woman whom you left,
Without a hint or the slightest trace,
It would again be a year,
Where you won’t be there.
And she’ll have to make do,
For she loved you and cannot but continue to.
I don’t know how I found myself,
To end up being that very woman.
But we both had found love in the wrong place,
The sheer difference now being, I couldn’t leave you,
As easily as you could to me.
I still remember you in my Gaiman,
I still feel you in my Marquez.
Still infatuated with you in my Ishiguro,
I soak you in all of the world’s poetry.
I remember you in my books,
I remember you in my poems.
I gasp & try to cling on to you, in bits & pieces,
Which seem to be fading away slowly with time.
While I look on helplessly,
At the waves crashing on the shores of memories.
It’s going to be Christmas soon,
And my eyes would again renew their tireless search.
For sometimes I believe I’ll find you right there, waiting,
When I shall turn back on the street.
Like that shadowy presence which seeks to soothe my being.
You, with a smile lingering on your lips,
Hands inside your jackets and a smug posture.
You, standing against the christmassy night lights,
With those eyes that seem to leave me bereft,
Of my skin and soul and the atoms I’m made of.
I wish I could see you again,
See you looking at me through the afternoon rays,
Saying words that all but fade,
Leaving me with just you.
Only you, my definition of existence for that moment.
I wish I could hear your voice again,
And try not to gasp of how they made my heart thud.
You spoke a language that I understood not,
Yet I knew you, seemed to have always known you,
Inside and out, of the pages of your life.
I wish I could slay those demons,
Which came to trouble you every night.
They could might as well complement my own,
If that meant I could hold you again tight,
While the moon looked on, envious of our union.
There are so many things,
That I wish I could make happen.
Like I wish I could banter with you,
And keep the promise to not become angry after you.
I wish I could meet you again,
For there couldn’t be any force in this world, to hold me back.
For I promise I would, come what may, this time.
If only you came back, from wherever you are,
If only I could touch you again.
If only I could hear you call out my name,
If only I could live you again.
But I know all these are futile,
That you probably were just an illusion.
But maybe I can keep you alive,
In my memories, in my prayers.
Then it might be that you’ll come back.
For one fine day, I know you would.
You’ll have to, for me and my love.