a poem by Priyanka Roy banerjee, India

I was happy, walking down
the fall-clad roads.Alone.
Then came he, walking behind me.
Slow and steady, caught my pace, and
started strolling with me.

I was happier, holding hands.

Stormed then, a bad winter.
Covered us with snow, and suddenly
people came all over. Familiar
silhouettes, smudged with concern,
heaped us with warm wrappers.

We were lost. Our hands got parted.

And we're walking again. Together.
Our hands crave to touch each other. But,
the barriers between, don't let us.

Will they, ever? Again?

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