Poetry

His Room

I was still in his room

Waiting and grinning

All day to make a foam

Of love which is blushing

Like the blushing blossoms.

I was still fond of his attraction

Which is living inside my remembrance

My hands have a tinge of affection

If his belongings still have that fragrance

When I wiped the dusty table.

I was still in that moonshine

When I peeped through his window

Gazing at the cat in the sunshine

The fluffy kitty with a bell in a shadow

Was still there or not?

I was still in the same direction

When I started the path of trust

Understanding the fake ambition

Believing his objects to mistrust

His inkling of what was going on.

I was still in his room

Paused the suspicious moments

When he embraced from behind

To titillate the sensations of agreement.

I was still in his room

           To remove the memories!!

                                                                   ~ Bhavya Prabhakar

                                                                  Gurgoan, India

2 Comments

  1. Very nicely articulated.

  2. Excellent

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