Hope, You.

The gush of the wind,

Awoke my slumber,

I reached for my phone,

Nothing again, I trembled.

Languishing with my thoughts,

Awaiting escape to another slumber.

A whole twinkling passes,

Nothing again, I know.

My imagination runs with wings,

Thinking my phone would ring.

You’d want to come back,

I wouldn’t have to ask,

You would, you would call.

But, I told you not to.

Never to call again.

Yet, at every tick,

I hope its you.

The sound of my own breath,

Too loud, yet empty.

In this lull of the night,

If I could wish for you,

I might.

Hope falls like dried leaves of fall,

Nothing again, tempted to look.

Fallen daisies, hyperbole anticipations,

Empty answers and my fragmenting heart.

I told you not to, but I hope you do.

Swati Jain

February 8, 2014