disillution..

If one day,
at a sloppy turn,
if you will tell me,
the days are not bright as they used to be,
I won’t be surprised,
as I know,
time has its own needs.
and the needs resemble chameleons,
sitting on a muddywall,
changing their colours,
along with the consciences of any day or night.

If one day,
at a gloomy dusk,
if you will say me the night has no ends,
when it falls in to the abysses of darkness,
where a dawn will never find its way in or out,
I wont be sad,
as I know,
every night has a right for its own silences,
which it has to borrow from
many noisy crickets..
and every dream has a string of beads,
shaped in seconds,
which it has to count from the unknown ends..

If oneday ,
you will tell me you forgot
the colour of our love,
I wont be hurt,
as I know,
every pulse of an emotion cannot be recorded,
continuously in a straight line,
on a graph of sentences versus silences,
as it has its own,
ups and downs,
both above and below,
the uneven thoughts masking the surfaces.

Yet,
If one day,
you will decide to dissolve in the soul of a cloud,
I will be waiting eternally,
for a rain,
to bring you back on to my earthly lawns,
where I have already planted,
an everlasting greenery,
of our own nonflowering grassy hopes..