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,
Together.
Lost in the magicality of the moment.

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Nadeem Qazilbash
Member

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

wpDiscuz

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