And if, in some strange country
where we meet again, and I
reach up to kiss your lush lips,
trembling with uncertainty,
then there, among the silent hordes
and the grey walls, there — is it
possible, that you will choose
to forget all of my unthinking
words (knife-slashes), all of my
mistakes, and taste only passion
touched with (so much) regret
to press your lips upon mine
in return?
*****
M.A. Mohanraj
January 14, 1998