13 | July | 2014 | Golden Star Poetry

The first breath in the morning,

and oh,

how that smile
 which so seemed
 jasmine
 to a broken eye.
 Myself, and the water above my head
 singing of the only song
 that was,
 a face.
 a rainfall monsoon spread to india today.
 A girl was seen rushing up the street 
soaking her dress, 
and i thought
 of myself
 when,
 dragged beneath the sea comb of the beach
 my hair dragged and rippled up in knots
 you were my first love
 and now her eyes stare into mine
 that girl,
 tossed inside the waves of rain
 whispered
 “he is gone,
 and a jasmine blossom
 now drowns in the river”.