? Love Has A Home?

Those eyes were surrounded by a bluish shroud,
That is lifted, torn, decayed;
Eyes are just two empty lakes.
The face; it struck me with its brilliance once,
Is nothing more than a deserted isle.
It’s been a long time, no?
Then suddenly, on seeing me, the blueness returns,
The shroud descends, sparkles,
Lights up the face, the features, the eyes,
From within and Love,
Remembers after all, the home it lived in.
It comes back like that.

by Dr. Afaq A. Qureshi

Comments (1)

A good poem, if it is love its home is our heart. It leaves to come back. Good poem.