Fleeting dash of snow, dancing swirl of mist,
Crashing surf on shores afar, a dreamless sleep, a forgotten kiss,
A branch too high off the ground, leaves brushing my hand,
The floating cotton of a cloud, hiding shapes of a stranger’s muse,
I feel your touch in everything.
Feet walking on paper-thin glass, a ripple of water beyond the edge,
A light burning at the end of the tunnel, but the tunnel does not end.
The day begins with a jump off a cliff, flying, crashing, crying,
Wings straining through enemy winds, fighting, clawing, soaring.
I feel your eyes on me.
Rushing up steep mountainsides, conquering far off peaks,
Touching the sky with a fingertip, feeling the ocean’s caress on my lip,
Riding the Eastern breeze till I meet the sun,
Holding on to my hair as I flew and spun.
I wonder what you think now.
Memories in my head like autumn’s fallen leaves,
Your laughter in my ear like Heaven’s secret breeze,
A single thread of song I feel rising in my chest, your image, your vision,
Your firm taps on my door a sharp shove to the head.
I pull the blinds and stay silent.
--Aqsa Mustafa