Am I doing the cliché,
looking at a poem, and thinking of you?
Did I make you smile, bitterly,
Looking at this poem, and thinking of me?
There are two magical words in the language of poets:
Qurbat, is one.
You’d know, I’m near.
I had to leave,
The part of me behind,
The one that could not stop loving you.
Moajza, is the second.
It is nothing short of a miracle.
To have my heart pried open,
By a year that is passing.
I looked at a poem,
And I thought of you.
amapola 