Clouds

A whirlwind blows
Plays with me hide and seek,
Some where I believe
That moon will speak to me one day.
I speak less to you
And my heart cries each day.

You will find me in nihility,
Or may be on broken boulevard.
There is a dead sea of my tears too,
Lost words grow on the rootless tree.
I hug my reflection
For God’s plan is beyond my reach.

I speak to you Oh beloved,
Don’t bask in my rays for warmth,
It is meagre in milk you are used to,
The mirth of the neon signs
And the ballyhoo of the glitz
And shine and shimmer
All is but absent.
I sit with clouds
And talk with words
And wander in the nothingness.

©aquib

Ps – Poetry I inhale.