Friday, June 18, 2010

Love in the time of cholera

The words you whisper tonight,
Arise from this page and dance
In my eyes, filling my little world
With an aroma of freshly mown grass
In spring, a gentle rain
On a hot summer afternoon.

There's little else I can think of
As I go about living my day,
I touch each moment gingerly
Like a child taking his first
Tentative steps, and still I find
At the end of the day, that I
Forgot to shave in the morning.

There are times when poetry
Vanishes, and words hover just
Out of reach, when silence best
Fills the gaps between whispers.
Tonight is a time like this, my love.

But wait, before you let words
Pour forth again like a gurgling
Stream, remember this, my love,
The screeching times do not permit
Shared whispers, that the birds
Stopped singing in this world long ago,
That love in the time of cholera
Is destined to die a painful death,
So be silent, my love, and instead
Savour this night, this moment
Stolen from tyrannical time,
I too shall hold my breath
Lest a wayward sigh escapes
And shatters this moment held together
With soundless words. Lets not hope
For permanence in this world,
Fragile as the innocence of a child,
Transient as a poem written on flowing water.

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