Our Voices....
(c) Shilpa Sandesh
I am sloshed,
Inebiriated and laced,
In the saline froth,
Drunken with your thoughts,
Besotted by the sound,
Of your majestic voice;
I see those golden and orange rays,
Of the setting sun,
Like beauteous fire strings,
Dancing to the blazed beats,
Of my flaming heart,
A heart that's on an impetuous stride,
To be one with yours;
My inner self,
Listened to your impassioned voice,
The voice, that's the bow,
Which plays on the strings,
Of my heart, it's inflamed violin;
Can you hear the song love?
May be, a murmur!
Or a whisper?
Those are my breaths,
Brewed with the sound of my voice,
That is my song,
Which I filled up the setting sun's rays with,
So that they sheathe you,
The whole of you,
With the morning glow,
As they rise tomorrow,
In your hemisphere;
I wonder,
How else do I say,
I miss you!
Or
Should I just say
I miss you?
I am sloshed,
Inebiriated and laced,
In the saline froth,
Drunken with your thoughts,
Besotted by the sound,
Of your majestic voice;
I see those golden and orange rays,
Of the setting sun,
Like beauteous fire strings,
Dancing to the blazed beats,
Of my flaming heart,
A heart that's on an impetuous stride,
To be one with yours;
My inner self,
Listened to your impassioned voice,
The voice, that's the bow,
Which plays on the strings,
Of my heart, it's inflamed violin;
Can you hear the song love?
May be, a murmur!
Or a whisper?
Those are my breaths,
Brewed with the sound of my voice,
That is my song,
Which I filled up the setting sun's rays with,
So that they sheathe you,
The whole of you,
With the morning glow,
As they rise tomorrow,
In your hemisphere;
I wonder,
How else do I say,
I miss you!
Or
Should I just say
I miss you?
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