Unstill

I took a step forward to descend the stairs
when she called out – careful!
Alerted, I shifted my gaze, looking
for her face in the crowd below
when I saw your nervous fingers
running through a premature grey, that
once was a dark and rebellious mane.

 

Clinking glasses, kissing the air, speaking
with an engagement I didn’t feel,
the evening seemed so unreal. Yearning
to touch, to talk: you were just
a breath’s reach away, but not a word
was said and neither stole or shared
a glance nor looked away.

 

As strangers, we came together
in this cocktail hour of pretence.

 

Published: Brown Critique e-Journal
August 2012
http://thebrowncritique.blogspot.in/