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Not dreaming anything tonight,

tired of perambulations I decide.

Just want to sleep in your bed

forgetting every thing except

the starlit sky and cosmic clouds,

from where I and you did descend,

on the wings of a mystery, that still continues.

Your bed is soft,  the best healing spot

I have ever known, in this troubled planet,

I roll on to the soft heat from your body permeates,

and yet again become aware that you are the best thing

that  happened in this wanderer's journeys through moors.

Remember the first time I heard your name whispered,

resounded  within my bone marrow

and wondered about the magic it carries with it.

We walked a million miles in a second,

and crossed a life time in a day sometimes,

we are calibrated in perfect synchronization,

we understand with a smile,with  our souls it  resonates.

The sunset whispers the secret: go in to the light, eternal.
at the culmination of the dream, eternity beacons.
If you got a second chance to meet a person for the first time
Would you want it to be different?
...I know i would
 Apr 2016 Medhina Khanal
Kenēn
Mountains are not our thing
For beings so small as we are.
But a handful of earth
Really, a pinch of it, our hands can handle.

If cherishing the fading photograph
Of your face and and it's frown
Be the last thing I do
Then I'd do it gladly and with all my might.
 Apr 2016 Medhina Khanal
katie
Determined
          to leave
she gathered
up her
things, keys
& a coat, a
quick note
    explaining
why she had
          to go,
but the 
finality of the
scene gave
       the bleak
view a
different hue,
         the sun
through
glass shone
brighter, the
               sky
appeared
several
        shades
lighter, the
once
      silent
      meadows
called out in
       unison
to be walked
           upon,
the
    flowers
whispered
   to her to
        hold on.
I
loved
him.
Sometimes
he
loved
me.
Evolution is like a rubber band ball
starting small and simple,
but slowly expanding,
changing while keeping
each piece that came before.
 Apr 2016 Medhina Khanal
Kenēn
For this boy, a trip down memory lane
Is only a knock away.
But his hands are heavy
And only his tears are brave
Enough to fall and roll
The only feeling of cold
That his nerves can serve.

All of him is heavy
His spirit, breath and heart.
But it seems like everything
Is light enough to go with the wind.
Leaving him in poverty and dullness
And a trip down memory lane.
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