Monday, May 16, 2016

You and I

You remind me
of white lilies
– the ones that grow
in open green fields,
seen from tiny windows
of picket fenced houses.

Cloudy, Sunday mornings
when the winter breeze
made music, from fallen
orchard leaves
swaying to the wind,
before kissing the ground.

When noon skies blaze
a longing for solitude,
away from household madness
– far from pandemonium
under Jacaranda trees
of red blossomed flowers.

At dusk, skies blush
shades of pink and orange;
a film of mist wraps
the open fields ahead.
Unhooking rusty latches,
I close wooden windows.

Before I set in for the night,
I think of tomorrow
and of days to come
– promises and little surprises
of white lilies, orchard leaves
Jacaranda trees and pink skies;
everything that holds, a story
of you and I.


*First published by Pratilipi.

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