When I Write You Poem by Harish Yadav

When I Write You
Words begin to flow
the moment you enter my mind—
not like a river in haste,
but like rain finding its way
through the leaves of a silent evening.
Each letter carries
a quiet peace,
a small light
I did not know I was waiting for.
When I write you,
the night comes gently,
and the world grows still.
The restless hours fold their wings,
and somewhere in the darkened sky,
the stars awaken—
one by one,
as though they too
remember your name.
Your memory keeps me warm
when the distance becomes cold.
It rests beside me
like the last glow of sunset
held within a window.
And thoughts of you—
so simple, so luminous—
become a path through the darkness,
a slender silver road
leading my wandering heart
back home.
You are not always here,
yet somehow
you are everywhere:
in the hush before dawn,
in the fragrance of rain,
in the trembling light
upon an empty room,
in the pause between
one heartbeat and the next.
Your smile makes morning
feel less like morning
and more like a promise.
The smallest moments
become immeasurably deep
when they carry your presence—
a glance,
a word,
a silence shared
without needing to be explained.
Perhaps this is love:
not the thunder
that shakes the heavens,
but the steady light
that remains
when everything else grows dark.
So I write you
when the night is quiet,
when the stars are awake,
when memory is the only warmth
my hands can hold.
And with every word
I discover something strange—
I thought I was writing
about you,
but perhaps
all this time
you were the light
by which
I was finding my way
back to myself.