The language of love


Speak to me, the language of love

I need to hear your voices inside

The dreams, aspirations and desires

Lurking somewhere, and never die.

I never write poem, because I don’t know how to and cannot. So I wonder if this is even one. It just came to me an hour ago, while I was waiting for the train back home. I quickly jotted it down in 2 minutes to pour  down my thoughts on paper and didn’t think too much about it. Until I read my friend’s poignant post. So moved was I, that I decide to share this.


Roosevelt Island, NY. February 21.


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