Poetry

Listen

Oh dear sound of heart

Why are you out for sorts?

Is it because, the hearts you were

a heart to, are not heart’s anymore?

But much tragic is that you don’t

have hands so I can pull out of blues

But thy my dearly heart, didn’t I told

You to not skip a beat for hearts that ARE–

dead?

Alas to you, for convincing me for our drained-destroying

How sweetly with your sound and pace you have sound-mailed me

Don’t give a space to fear clouds over you

And don’t be afraid when it rains over you

I will be an umbrella over you

and beneath

We will bump into our own dimensions

And wonder-full of expectedness

Of hearts like you

And a worst caretaker like me.

                                                                                  ~ Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo

                                                                                            Kishtwar, India

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