Four Poems
By Yash Pandit
Had we only enough
Turns on the clock,
I would resuscitate
The farthest of summers
Just to warm your wrists
On these winter evenings.
By Yash Pandit
Had we only enough
Turns on the clock,
I would resuscitate
The farthest of summers
Just to warm your wrists
On these winter evenings.
By Yash Pandit
I hold you as one holds a shadow; in my eyes,
I lose you between the flickers of light
And darkness. The radio screams,
“Don’t persist on leaving today.”