Halfway Home

By Ronit Ekka

It's strange... 

How the smallest memories

Become the loudest

Once you're gone.

Like the way you laughed

With your whole face,Or how your hand always found mine

Without needing to ask.

I still think about that walk –

The quiet one under the streetlights,

Where we didn't say much,

But somehow said everything.

You looked at me like I was home.

And for a little while,

I believed I was.

Now, it's just the echo of those moments...

Your name in old songs,

Your smile in old dreams, 

And that feeling –

The soft one –

Of being held,

Even in silence.

But maybe...

Some things aren't really over.

just take the long way back.

And if our paths cross again-

If your hand finds mine one more time-

I'll still be here,

Quietly hoping,

Still ready

To hold on.

By Ronit Ekka