Like a chill winter wind, it sliced through my heart,
Leaving behind a trembling, frost-kissed wound.
Will his heart, too, melt like mine—
Soft as moonlight upon still waters?
Ah, will there come an evening, just for me,
When the air sighs with the languid melody of slow music,
And our feet shall sway and entwine in gentle rhythm,
Dancing as if the world had faded into a dream?
Let my hand rest upon his shoulder,
Warm and tender, like a secret vow,
While his arms encircle my waist,
Drawing me close into a world that is ours alone.
Suhas Avhad (Author, LitNova)
