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Morning commences with the friendly clink of cups, sitting beside the tea cosy-clad kettle, Fresh, calming fragrance of warm tea nudging at My just-awakened senses, a little unsettled, My favorite ghazal colors the background, The record though scratchy, its influence unfaded; Abida Khanum mellowly croons, urging her lover to not insist on leaving that day. I smell, instinctively, the red rose he hands me, The same rose had traced my skin in the dark The missing petals testimony to its journey Over troughs and crests, marks and landmarks. What is so utterly, heartwarmingly romantic about something as simple as him spreading butter on bread, mixing sugar in chai, what makes his 'routine', for me so endearing? He watches me eat, breaks into a smile so wide, 'How do you enchant me, even with the mundane?' he asks, same question amusing us both, Same passion coursing through our veins. The poetess inside me, happily chuckles, Of being the one expressive, of solely giving away- Are the days of the past, as breakfast in bed Becomes our way of Give and Take
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Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 5:41 PM UTC
Give and Take
Morning commences with the friendly clink of cups, sitting beside the tea cosy-clad kettle, Fresh, calming fragrance of warm tea nudging at My just-awakened senses, a little unsettled, My favorite ghazal colors the background, The record though scratchy, its influence unfaded; Abida Khanum mellowly croons, urging her lover to not insist on leaving that day. I smell, instinctively, the red rose he hands me, The same rose had traced my skin in the dark The missing petals testimony to its journey Over troughs and crests, marks and landmarks. What is so utterly, heartwarmingly romantic about something as simple as him spreading butter on bread, mixing sugar in chai, what makes his 'routine', for me so endearing? He watches me eat, breaks into a smile so wide, 'How do you enchant me, even with the mundane?' he asks, same question amusing us both, Same passion coursing through our veins. The poetess inside me, happily chuckles, Of being the one expressive, of solely giving away- Are the days of the past, as breakfast in bed Becomes our way of Give and Take
ghazal-tansir
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Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 5:41 PM UTC
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