One fine October morning

We came a full circle,
When you asked me, what was wrong and I wrote you a song
Because that is how I talk-
I listen to Mukesh Kumar crooning,
And soundtracks from Dirty Dancing wishing all the while that we’d rather dance now.

Yes I think now is as good as any other time to start dancing to Pretty Woman.
I want your hands around my waist
And your gaze as your eyes rest,
Momentarily on my face so full of a wishlist.

Oh, and I wrote you a poem by that name.
I listen to Frost telling me the importance of roads,
And the way we juxtapose them with life choices
But wouldn’t you wonder-
How is it that I know what he sounded like.

I believe he sounded like the waterfalls,
The constant splashing of falling water on the rocks that lovers carve their names on,
When it hasn’t rained awhile.
So during the rains these names lay hidden under the foaming frothing cascades.
And as summer returns,
The rocks do too.
But the lovers don’t.
I am starting to imagine that water,
So timid in my glass and forgetful in your drink,
Out in the open let free,
Does not like her long lost love story be overwritten by transient beings like us.
And that we are transient- just passing by, is what frost talks to me about.


This picture was taken at Fateh Sagar Lake, Udaipur.

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