The Visitor

"A flower knows, when its butterfly will return,
and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand;
but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon,
when I don't know, if you will ever come back."

- Sanober Khan

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Funny how life is sometimes

Precious treasures we left behind

Island lovers, young and free

White-sand pure, gigantic dreams

...

Apart we veered by aspirations

Ruthless waves, different directions

Existence measured by perception

A quest for more, an expedition

...

Each encounter, fresh insight

Distant lovers, rotating flights

...

Danced without our island songs

A different beat, a different slang

Breath

Exhaled

Looked beyond

...

Vast spaces, spectacular scenes

Anticipation, chaotic shopping sprees 

Seasons changed, artistic shades

Carousel turned, luggage claimed

...

Non-stop red, lane-by-lane

Winter skies, crispy air

Heaven filled with flakes of white

The Night The Visitor came

...

On bending knees I took her hand

Enormous dreams, future plans

Breathe

Exhaled

Danced

To the rhythm of a familiar song

The night The Visitor came

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- Thomas © Dec. 19, 2015