coming back

Almost like her bronchial infection
I keep coming back to her life
sometimes like a poet
sometimes unplanned...

somehow I feel
I am not un-welcome
into her comfort zone,
which the world mistakes to be dark!

We spent so many hours
fascinating - the merging of sleeplessness
even - when a prisoner
inside our tiny lives!

After years of sailing away
riding on winds that never face---
writing our stories
telling our stories
holding on to our stories...
We come across as understanding strangers
like ageing stars unaware of each other
like fine print letters joining hands to form words!