So he touched me right
and he touched me well
Let me tremble in
his arms for a spell
And now I owe him
a poem I think
Shouldn’t my apologies
be on the brink
of my lips which
love him so tenderly
for I’m leaving soon
though i watch delightfully
how he sleeps
like an innocent baby
My lungs ache this time
Its not laughter anymore maybe
Now I crave him so
and often I think of him
But he’ll be gone soon
and I’ll be gone on a whim.
….
– Ananya Maheshwari
