Walking along

It is an every other Sunday,
Why should I wake up,
When it’s the only day, I can dream of her all day,
when I can revisit those long forgotten joyous days.

It was an every other Sunday,
Until they realized it was Valentine’s Day.
I shrugged not to bother, until,
When the lights went off, I unceasingly wept and wept,
when my hands got tired wiping the tears away.

It was an every other Sunday,
until the door bell rang.
A gorgeous lady with desperately waiting flowers, on seeing me said,
“Oh! Sorry, to have pressed the wrong bell. Besides, have a good day”.

It was an every other Sunday,
when I had the phone charged all day.
Hoping she would call,
I helplessly watched the minutes turn hours, to be a very soon Monday.

Unlike all other Sundays,
today I look back too far,
when once fear and sweat, had reigned my blood,
heart and thoughts in unison had said, “My love”,
to someone, whose absence this moment is the way of life today.
Whose absence since then has kept my smiles miles away.