Tuesday, 20 March 2012


I was angry of you. So very angry. Will not meet you, will not greet you,determined I was, will not talk to you. I found a thick book on spirituality to console my heart, to divert my mind.
Then the ears are so obstinate, they listened to and for every faintest sound made. Is that you? The eyes never listen to me, they checked the time and murmured she is never so late. The hopes denied to die, she will be here any minute.
Then I heard you coming. Your rhythmic footsteps approaching. My determination is weakening. Your fragrance is reaching me from far. I gripped the book steadfastly. No, I must not talk to you.
You came, and the same old thing happened. I looked up, and when our eyes met, the book, like always, fell from my hand. I stood up again, to take you in my arms.

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