When memories remain as strands of conversations
Amongst a family torn by miles
Each trying to earn
A morsel of a livelihood

Each seeking out hideaway moments
During the busy, runaway day
Or the runless, restless night
To recollect and to recherish, tirelessly

A string or two of those words
Followed by more words, laughter
A pair of eyebrows raised, lowered
A hint of a hurt, the comfort of a touch

Almost like existing in two worlds
The world of reality
And the one of longing
Separated by cruel light years

One complementing the other
Fuelling the fire of hope in the bosom
Counting time, patiently, ever so patiently
For the twain to meet

Subir Chakraborty / 30th June 2019