An evening beneath a tree
Opens up to me
The skies are still visibly blue
Making me strain my neck
To look up
Sucking me inside
Spaces between flowers
Spaces between twigs and leaves
Giving me a chance to trespass
To see beyond
A rare evening these days
When melancholy does not seep in
I feel not lonely this evening
So rare for these times
I wonder if these words will conjure for you, my love
This evening beneath a tree
And that twinge of guilt I feel
At feeling so complete
Without you by my side
***
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you have a poem you’d like to submit, do email us at editor@madrascourier.com.
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