Incomplete

Read me a poem, will you?
In your presence,
In your voice.
The joys and the pain,
Amidst the sun and the rain.

Soon, you said.
I’m still waiting.
Nights are sleepless, you said,
And winters are cold.
I wait, in the cold winter,
And the same night sky.
Longing to hear,
Your words, your magic.

Now instead, I wrote a poem,
And it feels incomplete.
It’s not magical, but real.
I’m still waiting.
Come, complete it.
Fill it with magic, make it surreal.

– Shantanu

 

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