A song that meets
the curlicues of winter steam
in mid-air
strains and disappears just the same
like a top C
that isn’t quite there
but tries anyway.
Still,
a song will have its way
because
the heart will have its language
and seeks the form it needs to speak.
I nestle within the hollow of
the songs that haunt me.
They flew away
I watched them flee
to horizons and the heaving seas
they sang of. I couldn’t
go with them, tried
but they were nowhere to be found
too much time had passed
and heart was called back to other shores.
Perhaps one day
they’ll reappear
infuse my willing atmosphere
on a winter’s whisper morning
or a night’s misty dream.
© N. Nazir 2021
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