That bird -
Perched on a neem branch,
Its beady eyes search through scorching rays
For its departed half long drowned
In the dusty depths of Earth.
Hollow heart thumps
In mere existence.
Hours pass by.

Hope
Dims in this twilight sun but
Somehow,
Weaves its way through these
Wayward winds
Calls and cries of anguish
Shatter against the Gates of Heaven
Melodies of melancholies
Capture my wandering mind,
I watch until
Lingering love transforms into starlit forlorn.

Wistful.