Wednesday, February 16, 2011

A memory.

A poem by someone, found by my dear friend Sridhar, folded away in an old book. Would have been someone’s fond memory.

At the finest level of my being, you are still with me.
We still look at each other, at a level beyond sight.
We talk and laugh, in a place beyond words.
We still touch each other, on a level beyond touch.
We share time together in a place where time stands still.
We are still together, on a level called love.
But I cry for you alone, in a place called reality.

P.S: Sree, I have posted it.

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