They Never Say

By Meghna Mallik

When leaves no longer wash up to a grave,

Twigs refrain dancing their way across dust,

and rain barely hides recent tears wilted;

Glimmers illuminate the lake’s daily eulogy,

Birds and crows circle to receive their pardon;

and cottages far distant never felt so concrete.

They never say,

How long the other will survive,

How far the other would live,

How lost the other will continue,

until they do.

Was there time still:

To grapple at the tickle of their touch,

To flutter on the whisper of their smile,

or to exhale at the falter of their pulse?

They never said.

By Meghna Mallik