They met under a sun
Too cold to be true,
He was glad to be out
She longed for the blue.
Their pace mismatched,
And mind on two poles,
Somewhat like being..
In two parallel worlds.
She had to check twice,
His words were on run.
He perhaps got nowhere
Past her thoughts two or one.
Life was in a hurry,
Moment in blurs,
Yet his fingers made pixie dust
When entwined in
her’s!
-smitha



