Sonal Singh On Sonal's Table
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And,
In the cadence
Of her lilting tones,
I felt lost.
To this amorous fool,
They seemed like melodies.
Those inflections,
The haunting intonations
Seemed like rhythmic waves
Crashing on the shores
Of my heart suffused with love.
Yes, I was in love
This heart, my heart
Was utterly, devotedly hers.
Yet,
Every time she spoke
I felt myself sink deeper
Into the quagmire of her charms.
Did she love me?
I think not.
Does the moon love her selenophile?
But,
Even though my heart knew,
She could not be mine,
It still beat in furtive capture
To the merest tilt of her lips
To the tiniest crinkle
Of her eyes.
So what if she could not love me?
I loved her.
And, for me, that was enough.
Image credit – Artem Beliaikin via unsplash.com
You leave me speechless each time you pen something. ‘Does the moon love her selenophile?’ This sentence captures the essence of what you have highlighted. Truly, unrequited love.
Thank you so much for reading this.
Wow! So full of yearning and yet a satisfaction in his unrequited Love for her.
Thank you for reading it