We came close only to move away.
Our fingers stopped to tear with only the last petal,
Clinging, limp, to the stalk .Dark red, forlorn.
Though the conclusion was known , we didn’t conclude.
I see you at the stand, my window stopping in
front of you.
The light goes red, perfect timing?
Still, our eyes don’t meet.
For once, I didn’t chant that silent prayer
which always made you catch my eye.
Do you call this getting along with life?
Poet: Abhijit Chakraborty
Dated: 8th June, 2006, Kolkata