Thought I will write.
There is a feeling
Of inner engineering,
That only words lift.
I skip the
Ostentatious delight
And false company,
One at a time,
So I don’t have to look back
In anger.
I am observing the world better
But it is a burnt wood,
With torched agony
Casting light.
I raise this toast
To the island of emotions,
Remote and devoid of touch.
Your eyes kiss me
Like dew on daffodils.
I am awakened by
The kiss of your lips
On my flowering heart.
If I cannot understand,
I will recall your company.
You are my mysterious lady,
My muse of poetic voice.
Spill a drop of your desire.
In poetry you come
Unannounced.
.
© Sushant Thapa
Biratnagar-13, Nepal
Picture Nick Victor
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