Friday, February 17, 2012

The Guest by Rafikah



You sat so nicely

in an armchair, 
at the very center
of my heart.



It feels like
you have always
been there - 
reading papers,
glasses on 
your chocolate gaze,
smoking
cross-legged,
dim light
casting shadows
on your subtle
evening face,
lazy dust specks
flirting gracefully
with you
in courteous game.



My rocky silence,
interrupted,
now wishes
to be called
your name.

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