Hold Me Tonight...

Hold my hand,

Lead me through forgotten pasts,

Lead me to distant dreams;

I don’t want to sleep tonight, darling...

Touch me,
Just the way you know I need to be touched:

Trail your lips along mine,

Make me close my eyes;

Let me see your face,

Etched in my forever;

Let me feel you,

Under my fingertips.

Whisper sweet nothings

And sing to me,

What the cicada sings to his mate...

Hold me tonight,

Like we don’t have tomorrow;

Hold me tonight,

Like you’ll never let go!

(Composed - 25 June 2014)

Why Do You Sigh?

Why do you stand by the open window

All by yourself,

Staring into the distance,

When the whole house sleeps?

Why do you sigh,

When the wind blows your hair,

Into your melancholy face?

Why do you touch the corner of your eyes

With your knuckles?

Why do your lips quiver when you smile?

Why do your fingers tremble,

As if to touch something,

Just beyond your reach?

What do you look for

Beyond the darkness of the night?

There are no starts to count tonight;

So you won’t find hope,

Not in the sky...

I know,

Because I tried.

(Composed - 16 July 2014)

Did You Learn to Cook?

Half a pack of cards -
The king of spades still has the turned corner
On the left bottom;
From that weekend we spent,
Locked in a cottage
Lost amidst coffee and pepper...
I knew you cheated, you know,
And I let you win anyway.
I still have that book,
Marked with a dried rose
On page 211;
‘Sad poems’, you said, with misty eyes,
So I packed it away in my bag...
I never returned it,
And you never asked.

I don’t have pictures;
When you left, you took them all.
Perhaps you knew,
That I don’t need pictures,
To remember,
How you leaned out of the rear window,
To look back,
When you thought I wasn’t watching;
I don’t need pictures to remember,
How you'd bite your lip
When you smiled sometimes;
How you moved when you danced
In my arms;
How you’d tie up your hair, a little messy,
And hum in the kitchen...
By the way, did you learn to cook?

The little love-notes you left,
Stuck to the bathroom mirror;
The oversized, overworn T-shirt,
That we both fought over;
A pair of grey socks,
That you forgot in the laundry basket -
These are all that are left of you
Behind my closed door...
And yet,
Like the lingering smell of drenched earth
After a rain,
What I have of you
Is so much more.

(Composed - 07th July 2014)