Anita Bacha

Morning comes

Drizzling rain

A drop of dew

My Sweetness I miss you

The sky is turning red and orange,

Time for the sun to set,

For the moon to rise,

The sea yawns, ready to sleep;

We sit on the beach,

My head leaning on your shoulder;

You read to me your last poem,

‘We will meet again!

I will write our love story again!’

Night creeps in,behold!

I cup your face in my hands,

Your lips are cold;

You turn into a handful of sand,

The last poem ends.

Anita Bacha

Illustrative/Photography/AnitaBacha

My sweet beloved,

Your lover dances,

Whirls and swirls,

On heavenly music;

Intoxicated with agony,

Your lover spins,

Twirls and swirls,

Longing for your lips;

My sweet beloved,

Dance with me

On this melody of love,

As I am in you,

You are in me,

You are the essence of the essence.

Anita Bacha

Photo credit Facebook