I look for you near shores and seas,
In every scene that you cherish,
In the moonlit night and sandy breeze!
Didn’t find you but you can’t perish!
This lonely wicket noon shall overcome,
The silent talks heard before,
You may be deceased to a handful or some
But into your cup yet tea I pour.
Your limericks I hear every dusk,
It steals me away from turmoil.
Your voice so clear and so brusque,
I listen as I toil.
The dawn in front complaints your absence,
Wishes to kiss you a farewell,
But I, still can feel your presence,
In my cottage yet you dwell.
The autumns ask for your destination,
Your hands it wishes to hold.
They say you skipped to a heavenly nation,
“You are mistaken”, I told.
Your footprints have still paved way,
For my ajar entrance door.
“it’s a pitiful illusion”, they say!
And exclaim as they mourn.
Their sobs so cold chills my spine,
But you come and hold my hand.
Your fingers, into mine- entwine,
And abduct me to your land.