An Old Pair Of Jeans

An Old Pair Of Jeans short poem

Photo by ben pollard

We stood there,
Leaning against the rusted rail.
Watching the blend of day and night-
With stars slowly coming to life,
Shining bright.
We watched the purple horizon-
Comforted by the passive fire,
Of our presence.
Like an old pair of Jeans,
We were, I thought.
Seen so much –
But known too little?
Since childhood, we’d been,
Enamored by the concept
Of Soul-mates.
Perhaps that did even exist;
And perhaps that’s what we were- or not!
What was it between us,
That drew us together,
Like glue or gloves?
Something indefinable,
Yet very complete.
A miracle or a mirror, art thou?
Whatever be it, your shadow,
Leaves me resplendent and replete.
I traversed your gaze,
Across the green meadows,
That stretched for miles-
Sketching out the eons between us.
So much have those eyes witnessed,
Yet have never lost their sheen!
It soon became a little chilly,
I wrapped my stole tighter around me.
You must’ve noted the murmur,
As you drew me closer to your strength.
And there we remained,
Lost in the magicality of the moment.

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1 Comment on "An Old Pair Of Jeans"

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Nadeem Qazilbash

A relationship – seems like surviving many lifetimes… a union of seven rebirths, as they say.


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