[Poem] Reason

Like every occasion in the past,
when we met last,
promises, there were none
neither a semblance of an assurance
Like the hands of a clock,
we drifted apart,
but, destined to meet again
on a new turf
Perhaps, our love draws its sustenance
from these occasional distances
and destined confluences
Do we need any other reason?

Vijay © 24th November, 2005