You don’t like to talk, you say
And I like to listen
Silences will be deep, you chuckle
Intoxicated slights of imagination
Unfold your stories anyway
Time falls
Summer, comforter, proximity
No longer enough
To control
Traffic in my timbers
You caress my heels
Unhooking anklets
No one needs to be cold, you say
Bells sing in my ears
This is how you knew
The shape of things
This is when I knew
I’d stay
Farwell Iqbal Bano…Music Died With You
