Ananda Ashram

We chanted softly, 

our voices caressing the night.

Krishna.

Rama.

Encircling our tongues.

Upon the last note, she took a breath

and told of the man in white with golden tears.

They wrote for months.

Lovers.

Then gone.

Her head bowing, a sigh, followed by a delicate smile.

The fireflies reflected the stars above.

A warm hand reaching in the dark.