A Streetlight Named Love

A Streetlight Named Love

A dollop of 
your vanilla dream
once would melt over my
freshly baked brownies,
rousing the
uncurated passions
that were born in my ribs.
I know the allegory 
is still strumming 
your guitar,
is silver dust
tucked in your
midnight hair still.
a day long
worn out cloud
hanging from your clothes line,
droped in my palm.
The lucid green 
of weeds
implored the voilets
of your burgeoning rainbow
billowing in my
million shades of red .
Pray, set your boat sailing,
sailing in my taciturn puddle
Where a few unspoken 
timorous fallen dreams
still shall gather 
your epochal oar,
and stay tangled
with a roaring silence.
Pray, let’s get padlocked
in the rain of my palm
and meet that
doused boat where
a not so caliberated
street light 
still flickers meekly.

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Deepti Sharma
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