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Sep 2018
She smiled to the proposal.

I marked on paper the site
where screeching gulls
would shut out our voice
and her toes white as rice
curl in the touch of waves
waiting a freakish wind
pushing mine into hers
passing seconds to eternity.

She felt vaguely beautiful
when my shoulder held the earth
shaped like her head.

Do you still love me?
my silence questioned,
but she said nothing.

I thought I heard,
Yes.
If she returns to your dreams, her love is alive.
Pradip Chattopadhyay
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