By Laila Brahmbhatt
I think of him often.
I have become
the ghost of my longing.
My breath never reached him.
He was the icicles
hanging from winter’s white breath.
I was a cactus
in a forgotten desert.
He carved his image in frost
while I searched for his face in a mirage.
Now I listen to songs
that remind me
how easily I fall in love.
As he walked through snow dunes,
I stood
a single grain of sand.
Laila Brahmbhatt, a Kashmiri/Jharkhand-rooted writer and Senior Immigration Consultant in New York, has published haiku and haibun in several international journals, including Cold Moon Journal and Failed Haiku.
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