Sense of an Ending

The sea was incessant

For last four days.

Rushing, tip-toeing -

It kept me company,

Uncannily knowing I

Lost

Someone.

There is a warmth

In sands

That soak in sunrise

And give in to sunset.

One could bury his face

And find a comforting

Whisper.

Nights,

I would look at the stars

And reminisce our

Happy times.

There are hardly any patient listeners

than waves.

They keep coming back

To the same stories.

Weeks pass

And months wait.

People do not come back

But wind does.

It is only then

Emptiness beams

And at times, comforts.

In the midst of lonesomeness

One realizes -

In the end, what is love

If not a little measure of loss.

.