A man in love.

Was it his destiny

to be only a moment near her heart?

Yet he lingers in her memory,

thinking of that night

when the moon shone brighter,

when mist embraced the earth,

as they sat near the pious ghat,

holding hands,

humming their sweet song.

What power lies in this memory,

that draws him to the edge of delusion?

Each year,

same day, 

same time,

he sits still,

with only a hair tie she once gave him

now circling his arm with pride,

the last relic of her touch.

Now he sits with her specter,

a life that could have been.

Yet he is happy in her absence,

for he has become more her.

Her love reshaped him

his words, her voice,

his soul, her shadow.

They remain together,

though bound by mortal divides.

A man in love,

eternally hers.