when poems are carved
on flesh of a sprawling night
by ubiquitous drops of rain
slithering seep into crevices,
through each pore and cavity...
they stutter and gather pieces of
halos abandoned by fireflies
on dismembered petals and ferns alike
while hesitating strokes define
scribbles on a soggy parchment
ridden with nostalgia
exclaimed by a crooked white stream
of moonlight betwixt eyelids
and far across faded sheets of grey
through magnetically opposite lives
separated as lips parted in amazement
in a hearth amalgamating memories
obtusely incessantly
you coerce my heart to throb
lodge in womb of wispy breezes
frequently, unspoken.