Touch
The Touch of your hand
Was like rain on desert sand
It wiped away my idle poetry
Written on the leaves of a palm tree

Words deserted me for a while
Watching the Oasis in your smile
I tried to call it a Mirage
But could not rewrite my language

Now I speak in tunes of silence
The music of voices sounds like offence
To call you the Relation is unknown
Without a Destination, I Travel Alone


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© Lavanya 2015
lavanya.karra@gmail.com