Saturday, April 03, 2010

The afternoons

Loving you on a sultry afternoon.
The air languid,
the breeze still, quiet.
Birds not singing,
trees not whispering.
A blue bottle buzzing
lazily over the white lilies
you brought home.
Water dripping somewhere,
sand in the hourglass flowing.
Cats curled up in dark corners,
the milk in saucers souring.
The wall clock ticking.
An insistent tic-toc,
trying to make the
oblivious take notice.
Aah, what an attention seeker.
You ignore it.
I ignore it.
The silly flowery bedsheets,
the one too many cushions.
The forgotten tea cups
toppled over the blue rug.
The stained, dog-eared books
strewn across the floor.
The doors have been locked.
Curtains have been drawn.
The closed blinds,
make crisscrossing patterns
on the gleaming white tiles.
And the sun beams dance
to the moonlight sonata
playing on the old stereo.
A sliver of the ebony night,
a slice of the silvery moon,
on that long, sultry afternoon.

2 comments:

Chandni said...

"And the sun beams dance
to the moonlight sonata
playing on the old stereo."

That's REALLY good! I love it when people play with words. This was a good read :)

niv said...

thanks... i just love this one... in my head its like a mini movie... :)