Honey memories
are flyspeck chandeliers,
Gleaming in the mutable azure.
When we're under the shade of sadness,
They shimmer,
And we walk again, joyous like a child
That finds its mother after being lost somewhere.
They are the wheels
on which our minutes move on,
And we sit on them as nonchalant as the pelicans on seats of the ambling animals.
You say forget me
As if you were an advertent-neighbour-passenger,
Giving me little share
Of your jewellery-moments,
And then alighting at the next junction, going into clouds.
Is it easier to let the macaws-perching-on-the-palms time slip from the mind?
And you say
Forget me like a fickle child to its objects.
You were the person
I'd dreamed of since coming into age
And yearned for tying the knot with forever.
My Love,
Forgetting you is like chopping my forefinger myself!
And you don't know
Those memories are not sparkles;
They are you eating next to me,
Sleeping in my arms,
Sipping coffee beside me hand in hand,
Sauntering with your head down my shoulder.
How can I forget you? And you say forget me.