Firsts
How beautiful is it to feel
The moment before a touch,
The nervousness before a kiss,
The initiated small talks
That were of a big deal;
An achievement that’d
Be written in the books,
In the form of poems
That’d just begin to multiply
And beautifully compile.
The one who believed was unlucky
And incapable to be loved,
Comes across the greatest form of love
For the very first time
And walks that path really slow
Hoping for the journey to grow
And the destination to never arrive.
Somewhere, a weak plant
Gives birth to a healthy flower
As the sun ceaselessly shines
Throughout the daytime.
Somewhere, a thirsty part of Sahara
Meets the abundance of Nile.
Rolph David
Mon 14th Apr 2025 07:54
Manish, there’s something deeply moving in the way you explore the delicate beauty of "firsts." You’ve captured the quiet significance of those moments before anything truly begins—the anticipation, the vulnerability, and the sweetness of something new unfolding. The way you describe love, first felt by someone who once thought it out of reach, is tender and profoundly human. The imagery you weave, like a plant blossoming or the meeting of the Sahara with the Nile, speaks to the profound shifts that occur when new life, new hope, enters unexpected places. It’s a poem full of longing, tenderness, and the quiet strength found in beginnings that carry us toward something greater. Fantastic!
Regards,
Rolph