Contemplation

You confuse me,
weaving webs of the most intricate threads.
Magic lingers upon them
like dewdrops,
like teardrops that fall
like waterfalls,
unchecked and unguarded,
beating against your doors.
I beg you to let me in and 
show me the fire I saw burning faintly in your eyes. 
Or was I mistaken?
Was it not a secret shared with me 
but a mere chance encounter
of eyes you failed to disguise in time;
and the glimpse I stole
was not you baring your soul,
but instead, an accident you have since worked to rectify. 
In which case,
forgive me for having crossed the line you drew between us.
Let us return to distant gazes
and graze upon our fields of thought;
alone in our togetherness,
comfortable in the silence of never knowing, 
and never needing to know. 


Amina Bhatti, 
Nottingham, UK. 
(abhatti1994@yahoo.com )