Thursday, January 15, 2009

When I told her

Clasped in harmony I held her hand,

In search of destiny, early to seek.

Meters in hand, a few strides in walk,

alongside the rumbling rails that witnessed our love.

Why this day? Why this place?

If not now, would it be too late?

An urge within endorsed my yearn,

to speak my heart to my counterpart,

still hand in hand.

Though not my words, but my fidgeting hands,

and the nervous sweat let her sense my hand in hers.

Could I have ever framed those cherished moments,

In a phrase so terse,

 a tyro when he is, a lover’s curse.

Though I not green, she sans pink,

neither eyes blinked to lose a second over a wink.

‘Yes’ would spell snow and ‘no’ would leave me all alone,

Either one imminent though.

Wasn’t sunny then, yet a shade she had offered,

 ‘Yes’ in disguise, she phrased that I had so long delayed.

Was it me, was it her,

A night of illusion it wasn’t for sure.

Still hand in hand,

When mom said, wake up son.

Had you slept hands crossed all night?

A dream, it wasn’t for sure,

cause the pen I hold, It’s still her hand. 

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