Whirlpool of Our Stories

 And I come here to take your hand, 
I'll forget the world and all jealousy; 
If you would only hold me close as we walk; 
Walk on this timeless sand. 
And I will leave behind all the worldly pleasure, 
Walk beside you holding your finger like a child.
 If you say I'm funny that way, I'll be the clown 
To see you smile, behind the laugher that you hide. 
And I can promise nothing but my idiocy, 
Or naiveté that says, you are my lucky star, 
If you are the silhouette, I'll be your shadow 
Tangled and entwined; inseparable by desire. 
Yet we shy away, from this untamed longing, 
Whirlpool of our stories tuckered us out, 
Speaking in whispers of self-righteous doubt; 
For nothing ever ends, but has many beginnings. 
Then again! And then again!! And then again!! 
Speaking strictly for me, we cling onto hope; 
I will be the trapeze swinger on the worn out fiery rope, 
Just to walk beside you and hold your hand in the rain.

Nayeemul Karim is a poet, bibliophile, and crazy cat lad.