Did you say that….

Did you say that, 
or I heard it my own, don’t know
maybe your voice hangs 
on the silence of night’s sorrow 
or falls like a dead flower 
that droops in absolute silence.
The whispers of mango orchard 
have an inimitable sweetness 
of Koyel’s cuckoo 
and its moving intoxicating madness.
Could have written something for sure
on the pristine white body of that moon
holding your ring finger in my hand 
like some ancient stylus. 
I wonder if I could even write a fraction
of what I want to write on the moon.
My emotions are indomitable and never ending
and the surface wanes interval days of every fifteen.

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