what is love
do i need to define it well?
or it is you
who in my every dream will tell
or sit and write a book
on me and you
remember you said you'll write
about us
filling your every wild guess
on what love is and
add every cheerful touch
announcing to the cosmos
the love of us.
Love was perhaps when
In every step of dance
I'd place my feet on yours
and happily you'd carry
my weight on you
delicately holding my hand
you'd say, "I love you".
Love was perhaps when
we'd go running like kids do
catching butterflies a few
smelling the flowers new
in the park on Sunday afternoons
or when building sand castles
on the lonely beaches
fight over who's castle's big
or play the game of tig
collect sea shells
or spot out dirty looking leeches.
Or perhaps in the evenings when
we'd eat from the same plate
you'd drink away my buttermilk
seeing me getting late
and at balcony window we'd smoke
from the same cigarette
you'd kiss, when I'd cough
pretending to be strong and tough
looking out of the window
thinking of nothing, all blank.
What is love
I ask a million times
and try writing in rhymes
perhaps in Jennifer, or Lily
Kuntal or Kavya
the names of our daughters
never born,
love finds a refuge
tho' all is subterfuge
I still call out to them loud
play with them, drop them school
perhaps love is still to born
or a child still born
or it is now all blank
blank forever,
looking out of the same window.
