We were standing under the trees

Talking, letting the wind pick up our words

And throw them east. It was warm, no doubt,

When I threw myself into your arms,

And felt my shoulder dampen. Were those tears?

I know I tasted salt, but I saw nothing

In your eyes. They were large, and brown,

And took in the sun. I was swept in with the light,

And swept further still. Beyond pupils and eyelids,

Deeper. I think I touched your soul. And a large

Pool of liquid, not sweat, not water, made its way

Into my dress. You were crying, your eyes

Were now pouring, like an unstoppable river

In our mid-May monsoon, and I tightened my hold

On you, as if I could keep it all in. only later,

When I could no longer make out the brown,

Or hear the leaves rustling over the din

Of mosquitoes and birds swarming home,

Did I let go to ask you why.