याद पिया की आए

i  miss you.
my disgruntled face,
constant gnarling at the sun
might have already betrayed
how much i hate the summer.

i hate the summer,
i miss you.

i miss your movement across the earth
as you
t i p t o e / march,
tread lightly* / thunder in,
caress / trample,
r e j u v e n a t e / strangle.

most of all,
i miss you because
i wish you would rush in,
darken the skies with clouds
like kajal for a goddess.
shove the sun
under a celestial carpet
woven from cool water
and colder skies.

i miss you.
my hatred for the sun
only progresses with the months
till july, till you descend.

they say that when love arrives,
you can hear a hundred violins,
you can see the colours in every living thing.
when you arrive,
i see only joy -  
pure liquid joy.

i miss you.