Fugitive in its place

Fugitive in its place

Gestures of uninhibited movements, of words, judged for ages
If you have to release to breathe
In the silky air you’d longed for
So be it,
Come unto me if you will
When you do
With your benign heart that rests
Unmoved in its innocuous strength,
The spirits floating flying all around the sand
Onto the hut
Just three or four waves down the lane,
Where poems met the poet
Fugitive in its place;
Here, hands didn’t hold the times cut
By the lips, severed by the looks,
Legs didn’t walk through the hopes
That waited since long,
Eyes didn’t kiss the thoughts on the crossroads,
Actions weren’t bold enough for the heat
Steaming on the beach,
And poems weren’t half-made to escape
Through the windows, a little away from there,
Some sand dunes away, my girl,
Come back if and when you will
Onto the waiting pillow that resides
Fugitive in its place!