Day Seven

I wish I had turn clock,
and turn the time and freeze it,
to that one day of seventeenth,
when in each hour I lived a million lives.

That day from the time I saw you,
from road across (though you were
covering your face from the scarf)
I could feel that courage,
you hide so well in that fragile frame.

The first word you uttered,
and I had lived one life,
the one which was craving
to see your lips move with your voice.

The first touch to you,
made my life worth a second chance,
as if I am absolved from all the crimes of past,
your hand was hand of chastity to me.

When you kept your hand on my shoulder,
I was assured in million ways and more,
that I can't let anything wrong happen,
to you, to me and to the world.

Strange how little gestures,
make us put faith in the faith.