Silence and her eyes talk
About "How we give wings
To passing moments to
Make them memories."
My eyes have a different stand.
"The ticks bore each other
And set one another on fire.
Memories are ashes,
Self-immolation of moments."
She knows it. About my
Cynicism and I know well,
How she always tries to
Fill the gap.
So she asks me to give her
A stone. Throws it into
The lake holding my hand.
A phoenix rises shaking off
The ash. And she says-
"We're that dip and
The subsequent flight."