It was a festive eve.
Everything around sifted to a placid uniformity,
Except for that girl, with eyes stained of kajal.
She was a welcome flick of flare,
Amid that cold foggy darkness.
She talked relentlessly, with all smiles and joy.
Oddly, many things complemented.
My frayed, unkempt hair, as against,
Her kempt, well combed hair.
A perfect grace she had, as against,
My hands scratching back of my hairs.
A captivating, mild smile, spilling
Scented mirth around, against my clumsy grin.
I was like an angular definition,
She, a well writ: curvy poem.
And then it happened that,
Our eyes met for a moment.
She bore right through my eyes
For a moment.
I felt as if the words she spoke
Tumbled, to reach me ultimately.
One moment more, her eyes still locked on me.
I really don’t know if she curved
Her lips to a smile, this time.
I tried hard to broaden my grin:
To reply. No, nothing happened.
One moment more: this was more
Than a usual gaze.
I felt everything around went dawdling,
Except for her lashes, which flicked once.
It was only the next moment, that
She broke her gaze: as subtle, as again.
I don’t know or remember what happened next.
May be everything merged back to uniform:
Careless of what happened.
And she left me with all, but answers,
And left my eyes desolate, longing and lonely.
replug: she makes it so easy to live
PS: I guess, it is hard to draw a line between reality and a poem sometimes. You never know where reality ends and where begins the poem.