Hues of Red

He trudged on in the snow-white fields,
Till his stick splintered and his shoes broke,
Despairing, he thought he was lost,
And then he heard the whirling of her cloak,

Illuminated in a flash of lightning,
Like a fleeting, surreal dream,
That came and was gone in a blink of the eye,
The hues of red so briefly seen.

Moonbeams curled and they softly fell,
on a silent figure in the snow,
Two eyes that lit a fire in him,
Alive, he felt his courage grow.

Two eyes that had the stars in them,
Her waving hair beckoning,
A lingering smile on her face,
lips that would be his reckoning.

The mayfly that sees the eternal moon,
Enamoured, looks only its way
Though its life starts and ends unseen,
as night turns cruelly to day.

The moon may belong to the sky,
And be by bright stars surrounded,
But its rays make the world look bright,
when the mayfly’s eyes have found it.

But without a word, in a whirl of red,
She turned, vanished in the dark.
He fumbled blindly, madly for her,
Found no footprint, not a mark.

A flake of snow on a burning face,
Pacifying but momentarily,
A sweet scent lost to a blowing wind,
satisfying but temporarily

Salman Shahid Khan

August, 2011



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