Your questions

You always asked me:
why are your poems short ?
sometimes fractured and incomplete ?
trying to hide improper metaphors ?
concluded on unexpected assertions and sighs ?
trapped in mercurial
changes of emotions ?

You asked me :
why do you paint
flowers of Paris
in your poem, you had distances.
and the forgotten seasons
of Kashmir and Sea ?

I say, my love :
every fractions of you,
can repair me.
I will absorb from you,
the lost words and colors.
And you will see
My verses breath and
draw a rainbow for you ;
a rainbow with no colors
that your eyes know
and a song that you
never heard.
You, can do with me
What my poems could'nt.
and you will not ask again
anything.