What was there to like 

the plop of a fallen mango

the swoosh of a misled breeze

the bickering of squirrels 

or the wonder of a bloom

instead i was so blown away

by the storm in your eyes

and the slant of a teardrop 

which almost whispered

i loved you

in the quiet garble of a

receding wave

until a late wind

breathed across the sand

to wipe my name

By Raja Chakraborty

From: India