A red petal on palms...opened...

The wind sent her
A red red petal
She came by the sea breeze...
The breeze that carried moisture
The breeze that carried the sense of losing all for the good...
The breeze...
The sinking breeze...
Which made him sink more...

She brought in...
The breeze...
With her sinking feel
the red red petal...
And she the petal...
like a feather almost
Flew straight and dropped on his palms-
opened to catch dripping wetness...
Of the sky...
Opened too...
Like a Love song felt
But never sung by anyone...
Never perfected...
Beyond any human effort...
Godly so...
he was then sitting by the window
Trying to catch the cool
Of the drizzle
Palms opened like a child
Through the iron grille...

And the red petal
Of a krishnachura
Came flowing
And got stuck
On his palms
Already wet
With the drizzle cool ...
he felt the velvety soft
Of her dress...
A fiery shape also..
A design
By Him naturally embedded into her...
he took the petal...
Staring at her...
her design...
A yellow orange red combined...
A color of fire perhaps...
But so velvety...
A kind of warmth...
Never causing burns...
Only erasing pains...
By her warmth...

he looked at the moist petal...
On his tiny palms...
Opened like a prayer...
Soft
And with inexpressible warmth blessed...

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