He…..

He is sitting on the top of a mere mountain’s rock,

which is standing alone among the roaring waves of ocean.

Who is he?

A priest or a saint,

Or only an imagination in which i am trying to paint .

Sometimes, he is seems like a lonely star at night,

Sometimes, he is surrounded by

His own aura in sunlight.

No response,

Nothing to say.

Sitting silent,

Like a statue on the peak

Many times I have thought about him,

Where he has lost his intoxicated mug of verses’s  rim.

I want his mug defiled for a kiss,

And want to know the taste of his lips.

But he is living at most far distance,

And my all longings is drowning in Barmuda’s triangle.

Many times, I call him but my voice’s lost in thunderbolt

And return as ruining boat like

The empty echoes by hitting with hard rock.

  Written  by Aruna Sharma.18.10.2020.        12.05AM
Images are taken from Google.