What is that red color in your face?
Is it the reflection of the sun
or are you blushing for my close
presence, staring, inquisitive gaze?
I saw that spark last night
it was bright, splendorous summer
ignored for the first time, until one more came
who asked me to look back, to that spark
still there, like a polar star keen to shine
A question, uncomfortable, yet capturing
no answer, no disappointment, only crossed eyes
it was not a riddle, just an enigma
to move you to a locked room
to take you to an open meadow
Whom are you talking to when you're inclined?
Is it your own reflection on the water
or is it the one whom you fancy
or it is me who right now is bothering you
with my uncomfortable questions?
Summertime will get over soon
no golden spark will be there anymore
that is the only thing that I know
if I want to know more, I have to ask
Did not I read the lines between the lines?
What do you mean when you nod your head?
I do not refuse to drink what you give to me
yet I do not know what exactly it is