Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Llahi Fuego Apr 2012
It's afternoon in Stonetown and the sun is bright,
We walk through the narrow alleyways
That serve as streets,
You want to stop every time, you want to take photos
Of the old buildings,
Of the old Zanzibari-style doors,
Of the old men
Sitting outside them, cloaked in robes of silk
Selling halwa and coffee... "Let's just go, let's keep on walking," I tell you,
It's hard being a tourist when you're at home
And I'm getting annoyed and restless now
"Don't frown," you pinch my cheek playfully,
But that only makes me do it more
"Seriously, you look ugly when you frown like that," you taunt me,
Then you take a picture of me and laugh.

It's midnight and the sky is neon blue,
The stars electric,
Sitting at the pool
My jeans are rolled up to my knees
And my feet are dangling in the water,
I tell you that I'm not joining you in the pool
But I have no choice, you pull me in by surprise-
Fully clothed.
You just don't know how much you annoy me sometimes.
You untie the lace of your bikini top
And slide it off,
"What happened? Suddenly you don't mind being in the pool," you whisper in my ear,
It's funny how I was asking myself the same thing.

It's a couple days later and you're about to leave,
At the desk by the bed I see you writing something,
It's a note for me you inform me,
I peep over but you quickly cover it with your hands,
Perfume bottle drops, spills all over the paper-
You tell me I can't read it until after you've left
So I read it once you get on the plane.
It was all so sweet,
Both the words and the scent.

They're still fresh in my mind, these memories of you
And of us in Zanzibar,
And I come across them
As they freely float and drift around
In the ether.
Probir Gupta Jul 2017
It would be around eight in the morning
Endless rain perhaps taking a brief rest
In her eyes a shadow of nice evening
In her gait past middle age well expressed

My eyes at the clouds I walk a bit slow
Her humming voice stops me for a short while
“Poori pakaibo Halwa pakaibo”
It is a refrain blended in a smile

The tongue is a dulcet ethnic Hindi
I will cook poori and halwa-- it said
Delicious dish for the olfactory
I look at the jasmines in her long braid

In spite of her soiled sari and lean look
Inside her she keeps the flow of her brook

— The End —