Bhagirathi,in Gangotri.jpg



There are no suns, moons or stars in you-

neither the ocean, no sky nor even a firefly

ever made any presence about your being,

yet I hear your silent steps in my heart.


Your lips are the exotic trees with rare blossoms-

that unfurl their petals not in profusion

to drown me in colors or perfume,

yet I feel their soft touch in my core.


You are no flower but a hardened rock-

that rose above brine water of the eyes

of my broken self in a broken world.


You rise as did our Himalayas-

with the warm heart in layers of snow

while I am a pebble of prayer.


Posted for dVerse MTB ~ Neruda and the free sonnet hosted by Bjorn Rudberg


Shared with Poetry Pantry #367 @ Poets United