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He is different A loner from what I hear No father He has accepted my ways I am different too Ma calls me “toofan” lovingly I can never sit still Books bore me The kitchen feels like a dungeon My feet always dance My fingers are usually splattered with paint or ink He doesn’t mind He likes me with my hair down We meet on the roof on most mornings Sometimes in the evenings When no one is around Drying clothes or chili Just an excuse We talk between cups of chai or sweet lassi I read his hand He reads my eyes He writes Possibly draws I cannot be sure He never lets me see I practice my steps he watches I paint He observes he clicks pictures always when I am not aware to capture something, I think I can tell him anything Nothing needed to be hidden in the pages He understands ever sigh and murmur Understands every step and colour But even then He has not once told me that he loves me
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Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 5:42 PM UTC
Cham Cham
He is different A loner from what I hear No father He has accepted my ways I am different too Ma calls me “toofan” lovingly I can never sit still Books bore me The kitchen feels like a dungeon My feet always dance My fingers are usually splattered with paint or ink He doesn’t mind He likes me with my hair down We meet on the roof on most mornings Sometimes in the evenings When no one is around Drying clothes or chili Just an excuse We talk between cups of chai or sweet lassi I read his hand He reads my eyes He writes Possibly draws I cannot be sure He never lets me see I practice my steps he watches I paint He observes he clicks pictures always when I am not aware to capture something, I think I can tell him anything Nothing needed to be hidden in the pages He understands ever sigh and murmur Understands every step and colour But even then He has not once told me that he loves me
MidniteFaerie
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Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 5:42 PM UTC
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