Without Her Poem by Reshma Ramesh

In the morning dreams like the evening itself,
with the sounds of the birds like tunes i make
in the open space with the blue filled sky
the orange disc peeping in the horizon
the worn out railway track with pebbles in between
the occasional deep throated grumbles of the cows
the fresh morning breeze like you in my arms
voices from far away leading to nowhere
the heads of flowers dancing in the wind
the wind in my hair as the train rushes by
the wooden bench on which i sit and wait
and the morning passes by and she dosen't come
the promise she made of her presence among us
like in dreams, faint memories, strong impulses
if i only knew she was not coming, if only i knew