The Pious Guide ♥ Poem by M. Asim Nehal

Time stood still as we talked along the trodden path,
The fringes of the day lingered on clock's pendulum
which stood like bamboo trees tall and thick.

Stones are eager to talk but their mute language
is far from my understanding
I am naive trying to understand what they felt,
Patches of light is playing hide and seek on the building facades
as the sun crosses mysteriously sought its path
among the silhouettes frozen in time.

She was a tourist and I the guide yet,
something more than what lay before my eyes,
but somehow it was enough to be with her
even in our shorter sightseeing spree.

The unintentional occasional brush against each other
sent sparks shooting up my spine like a comet.
I wondered what feelings these ruins evoked in her,
Between the sunset of past glory and an uncertain dawn
she and I stood separated by a dark frightening night.