I gave up on trying to make him give up smoking, but I am still waiting for that day to come...
An Ode- His lighting of a cigarette
His fingers curl inwardsLike a disturbed sea anemone
To shelter the orange glow
In his cupped palms.
-I remember his soft murmur
on my cheek.
The night blackens in the background
As his lighted cigarette triumphs.
He reclines soulfully
Little aware of the desire
He raked in me.
Those lips which once killed my defenses
Now aid him in breathing out opague fumes
He holds his cigarette lightly between fingers
And taps silkily at brief intervals
Each time he ends his paragraph of thought
On his hand is a cigarette
In my thoughts is him.
My gallant knight
does not carry a sword
does not wear an armour
He dons a soft heart and honest eyes
And a pack of lights
In a flip-top box.
Seperating a man from his love
Is like breaking a child's best toy.
Poetry by Neelima
Read 1002 times
Written on 2008-04-04 at 09:38
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Mukul Dahal |
