Walking under the starry night

I behold the heavens twinkling above me

A full moon shines, and yet

I think of you.

You. Yes you.

Did you think it was someone else?

That I didn’t hold you dear?

Or did you think I could,

In all my years

Desire another besides you?

That I could dare?


I look up, a cloudy sky

Dark purple and black

Thunder rolls.

A flash, bright blue

And I am besides you

You. Yes you

Both of us are soaking wet

But what do we care?

I brush aside your dripping locks,

As you wipe away my tears.

I smile and blink,

And I stand alone, hands outstretched



Trees sway in the tempest wild

Boughs creaking

Leaves scattered about

And I see you.

You. Yes you.

Standing with the wind in your hair,

Whipping those locks of lovely brown,

About and around.

You stand there like a deity of a culture lost,

Shrouded in leaves and floating dust.

And then

I see you for what you really are,

A figment of my imagination,

A cooked up dream.


A dawn, crisp and clear

Life anew

A zephyr blows, cool and fresh.

And I feel you.

You. Yes you.

Your presence lingers in the air,

And the slowly filtering light

Your touch is in the morning dew.

Your voice, in the murmuring stream

The birds call out your name,

Soft and sweet, like summertime rain.

You blow around me,

Like a stray gust of wind in sweltering heat.

Standing still,

I look around.

My heart asks

What is lost and cannot be found?

And a whisper,


Muhammad Taqdees Alam For Beyond Sanity Publishing


Sky Lights by Maham Batool

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