Constants

By Sahiba Sarker

The journey had come to an end,

Weaving through meandering paths;

Sometimes alone, often with a friend,

Thought they were constants;

We basked in the sun, fondling with each other's cheeks,

To understand each other, it took us weeks;

We laughed laying beside the lakes,

We wished we'd never wake;

Pondering in the rosariums, sniffing the scents;

Brooding about where wrong, we went,

We'd promised to never give up on each other;

Watery were our eyes and the weather,

Hopes were beginning to shatter;

Books filling up as we closed the chapters,

Deep in our hearts we craved each other's presence;

Stolen, was our adolescence.

By Sahiba Sarker