• One day you will look over your icy shoulder
    To find her gone. You will see that she
    Was not following you all along, You will
    Retrace your steps until you find the place where two
    Pairs becomes one, and another veering away.

    In the tall grass, progress is slow.
    She stumbled and you skipped on,
    Not bothering to help her up or know
    Whether or not she was still behind you.

    In the tall grass, paths have been blazed,
    And there are arcs from where she wandered.
    And places where you don’t remember her
    Pushing you, or vice versa. But she did,
    And you did. It will be visible to you,

    Where she left.
    The place at which her footsteps did not
    Come back to meet yours. They found
    Their own way and such is the life of the
    Blind in heart and cold-shouldered.