I kept on counting him
Like number of birds
Perching perilously on a branch
Or like syllables
In a piece of poetry
…………………………….
But then
I regret
For all the wasted moments
As one day
He whispered of his “infinity”!
I felt betrayed
Disillusioned
Desperate
Something “finite” would be more comforting
For I can feel the infinite
Only through the finite
I am too “finite” to be the other way!
