The mirror had the crossing
In silver and gold with red petals
Of roses and some flowers
Of heavenly nature
The seduction of youth
Flesh was made by hands
And adored for the evening
Those were the days when the city
What texture one could rub with fingers
On the air to see aroma of bygone days
Memoirs could have been written
On this bridge just by looking
At the passers by inventing stories
I picked the leaf from the tree
That had in its spaces tied
Some magic words from evil eyes
For the beloved too that passed every day
On the lonely footpath by side of stream
I painted many names on the wall of imagination
My love was my accompaniment
The news is that long separation
From the loved ones
I had once wished for the cup of wine
I have but I am busy
Writing myself on the wall
11/6/2009
Sadiqullah Khan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/writing-myself-on-the-wall/
