It was complete in your incompleteness

Came the pierced mid May in penumbra
Got myself a Walt Whitman poem, and a closet of blues
Summer brightened up, in elongated solos
While slowly the day dissolved into night
And the ring would quench me,
Find me a shelter in the empty nest.
Baffled ,I drew you , in shivered strokes
Amateur words wrought in Gary Moore
Retraced in pantheism of Wye.
In that dimly lit room, my ink parade
And Gary Moore.

On evenings I would chase the snapped kites
Climbing heights, sleeving your unspoken words
Beneath my striped shirt, till it came out
Through torn corners, before my ink inched.
And when the sun slipped into darkness
My wearied legs cycled, along the boulevard
Across million slums and busy streets
Till the fourth crossing encumbered me
Beneath that neon lampshade, my ink parade
And Gary Moore.

On nights , as the friends retreat
Throwing up casual remarks, crafted flirts
Your smile lit in an unseen finesse
Made me more lonely, trapped in a leaping green
As I recounted the minutes, people around blossomed
Somebody in the night sky, somebody in unimaginable infinity
Limitless thoughts pursued through Saki, ending up in Cummings
As I lifted my eyes, the faint image lured me further
In that ill smelling alley, seeking ; My ink-parade
And Gary Moore.