A little light leaks through
well-kept shades,
illuminating glitters and ghosts
of smoke from the incense.
The scent is strong,
good sticks from the temple
and it fills any missing spaces
in this cluttered room.
Saraswati's sitar is playing lullabies
that wake my conscience.
My eyes are closed
but I can see the color of your kiss.
And the island I forget to escape to
is floating in the distance,
waiting for us.