by Ahila Sambamoorthy

the corpse-cold slice of moon

midnight drizzle patterning the earth

stars quiz like eyes in reverie on the lampless uphill path

where two waifs join hands

wandering like ghosts consumed with the rhymes of love

in that formless fear

the despair of severance was not mine alone

the lesson has to be learnt

between dusk and morning

when dewdrops form