Hiraeth

By Abhivyakti Tripathi

you are the smell of paint

fresh and gratifying.

you are glass on my window

clear and requisite.

only you can be the walls

of someone like us-

you are the yellows of

solace over me.

I feel the comfort

of your voice through curtains of sun;

they caress my skin,

in the hands of heartache and hurt.

you are the ease of my home.

Cheers to a constant comfort.

By Abhivyakti Tripathi