...the next Valentine’s Day

At dusk I feel low yet I know
my mornings won’t be lonely,
promises made in moonlights
vanish into darkness.

I fantasize in freezing nights.

You didn’t come, or couldn’t?

Fourteenth of Feb was the day
of your promised arrival
after a long stay away...
Spring has become a long hyphen
between autumn and summer ...

Mirages haunt me
in the shimmering June...
short, sharp, ornate
glass splinters of memories…

Verdant valleys resound
with laughter
passions dance on our lips
sparkle in the eyes

Evening sun steals behind hills
whispers the night’s promise
turns your cheeks crimson

Those crimson blobs
now reborn as red roses
remind of days
when bouquets were redundant.

Love can bloom again
if you come the next Valentine’s Day.

* * * * *

By Randeep Wadehra

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