Friends
meet by chance
on a sultry noon.
Parasols in hand.
One has to shut and come near; let the other speak.
Whisper is an art, not an idle gossip.
Respect the light of the day;
respect the distance between persons.
Think and feel.
Seek a shade and respect the hearts.
Guard the candle in someone's hand.
A candle is a candle, not a baton of fire. A whisper is a whisper.
When you come near to whisper
respect the dignity of someone's life, a brief candle
in the hands of wind.
Sushama Karnik.
And these whispers and candle will never fade in true friendship. I like how your poem espouses the sublte spirit of the art work, all in nuances and shades of respect.
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