You hold me on your palms,
Cupping them together,
Like holding a Diya on Diwali night,
Ceremoniously placing me on the ledge.
I look into your eyes
Like a flame.
I see the glimmer in your eyes;
They smile at me.
The winds are my friends,
But are a little playful.
I am glad to feel the presence of your palms
Around me, against their playfulness.
They feel as warm as the embrace
Of an old friend
I haven’t met
In a long while.
The Winds subside;
After all, they’re friends.
And there I lay burning brightly,
Brightly for you.