Friends, lovers and friends again,
A circumference of pain.
Standing somewhere in the centre,
Between him and her-
A borrowed moment of love,
Without regret or disdain.
I will love you for a fixed time, at an appointed place,
At the moment, I am too busy with the rat race.
I will make promises and then throw them out,
We can make things happen, in this worldly bout.
He opens the cage.
Two doves, white, soft,
Smooth, fill his waiting hands.
He wonders whether to let them go
And curb his flight of fantasy,
Or let them lead his desire
To an unknown, moist shore.
When stars explode,
Do they die?
Or watch the world
With new eyes,
Scattered in the skies.
Forty, you say, is pretty late to fall in love,
‘Too late or too early?’I ask eyeing the cobwebs above.
‘Because when you were twenty’, I say with a pause,
‘You really didn’t know, what love was.’
Did I make the circumstances,
Or did the circumstances make me?
Or was it just the pastime,
Of an overwrought destiny?
Whatever it was, it was meant to be.
© Jaspreet Mann