When We Met — Abnish Singh Chauhan

Time moves like a river,
never coming back.
Yet those moments,
when we met,
remain etched
in my memory,
making my eyes heavy
with soft, unfallen tears.

My memory takes me
to the pond
encompassed by trees,
where we sat that day,
wrapped in each other’s arms
to watch its stillness.
Some birds chattered above,
like young maidens,
splattering laughter
into the air.

Evening drifted in,
and the place
became a home
for the floating birds.
Night softly brooded
over the trees,
and after a cheerful wandering,
you and I came in weariness
under a tree, near the pond.
Our silence was louder
than the words spoken
in love and praise.

The birds woke up,
fluttering their wings,
somewhere in the trees,
as if to remind us—
“It’s late; it’s time to go home.”

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