IMAGES

 
 
 

When i hear a different
song i know it is time for me
to wait for a monsoon
From the gift box of seasons
i filtered sorrow 
and in dawns i nested 
my dreams on a poem like seashell.

When i hear a different song
i know how i found my untrue friends
in river shores, in banyan branches
in masks, in shadows, in clouds
and i never thought even in my dreams
that you were in that cluster
and that indeed an error
my heartbeats learned
to breath with.....