Another sunrise, with purple sky.

Does it mark a single memory
from the zillion moments I have spent watching it,
rise and fall?
Like I do, appreciating the contours and the light
and the details of its color streaks,
which make birds sing and humans love.

Has it noticed me once?
When I get tempted to steal a gaze
on its changing hue,
forget my aims, schedule and self
to paint my soul in it.

Will it ever remember,
that it traveled places with me?
That its warmth filled up every photograph being clicked.
That it stayed with me, forever.

And it can never pick me up from the multitude,
though I wish it could,
and tell me that it has seen me through.
That i am its favorite one.

And this is the difference between our love.

Published by Neha Ahlawat