We arrive too late, no matter where we go,
to gather what we leave behind—
in the patios of echoes where our voices float,
in cities and mansions where we live,
in the streets which block our directions.

We often meet in streets and dreams…

Often when we meet in streets
we avoid each other, thinking they are dreams.
When we meet in dreams
we try to touch each other, thinking we are in streets.
Streets where all the houses are empty,
streets where faces walk to search themselves
behind their mental windows.

Copyright© 2004,2005 Debashish Haar