We live under the sun,
Its brightness warming us,
Leading us to every other minute,
One moment at a time;
It casts our shadow on the wall.
But in every moment we live,
We forget.
The shadows, they lengthen till dusk,
And vanish in the dark.
And we don't miss our shadow,
We don't remember.
That gentle touch that didn't leave a mark,
But marks our existence in the light...

Just as we don't always remember,
The gentle love shared with us
In a stranger's smile.
A smile, which with a helpful hand,
Lifts us up and tells us we were seen.
*A gentle touch that doesn't leave a mark,
But acknowledges our existence in this busy, busy world...

///
When the time has returned
Hearts can't go out from you
Lost love seems to be a footprint
Decayed stone is a sign of thy

The last laugh
The flute
Putting forward the images of the day
Today it has grown a big miss for the poet

Spots at matches
Someone calls the untimely
I See
You see
Everything becoming change

Slow
Quick change
You and me
The Trees
The Hills
The River
All

Your restless mind
Grew cold
Even fastest cyclone
Became cool

Leaves fallen
Grew again
Spring came
And moved away

She came
She sang
Again she went away
Never hold back
Just left this footprint

The last laugh
The flute
Putting forward the images of the day
Today it has grown a big miss for the poet
///
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

the house next door makes me
sad.
both man and wife rise early and
go to work.
they arrive home in early evening.
they have a young boy and a girl.
by 9 p.m. all the lights in the house
are out.
the next morning both man and
wife rise early again and go to
work.
they return in early evening.
By 9 p.m. all the lights are
out.

the house next door makes me
sad.
the people are nice people, I
like them.

but I feel them drowning.
and I can't save them.

they are surviving.
they are not
homeless.

but the price is
terrible.

sometimes during the day
I will look at the house
and the house will look at
me
and the house will
weep, yes, it does, I
feel it.