Still, I remember those moonless nights.
When stars shine bright.
I wait for a glimpse of a shooting star, looks like a glittering ray.
To wish for a letter from his side the next day.
Those flowering, flattering words.
How I read and smell like a fresh florets from a divine abode.
Those days I live in an Eldorado valley
The fragrance of lavender in every alley.
Chirpy birds, vivacious rivulets, an ecstasy of sighting a shooting star!
Living with him in a dream as if he was not so far.
Sing a song “love is in the air”, a duet
And how love made everyone a poet.
Once he wrote, ” When you see a shooting star, just think that it is me, coming to glance my moon, which is you”.
Profound love though the meeting was few.
We were too far by distance at that time yet so close by heart, with the aid of a sleek shooting star full of grace.
Who plays a cupid role with ease.
Now with so many gadgets, to call, see, messages when we like .
Connectivity galore between all but it is hollow hype.
Now distant becomes closer but heart becomes distant as we refuse to mingle.
And if shooting star appears now, it loses its shine in floodlights of concrete jungles