I miss some one I have never met. It does not mean I knew him not. He was the one who understood nothing of my culture but me for sure. We met in a poetry forum, me amazed at his bold writes and he surprised to see an “Indian” like them. It was a pleasure to break his myths about India each evening as he broadened my horizons of writing every night. words flew like boundless love from one country to another; from one heart to another. A dream to meet just once , a desire to hold his hands, a beleif in the boundless love between two people so different in every way.
And one day, he lost his son to suicide. He lost to life, And I lost my best friend and guide.
seasons change always
your words frozen in time wrap
I explore vaguely