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Mused thoughts resting on slothful fingers
Blunt eyes glazed, relaxed;
Heavy hands crossed, resting on a decrepit table
Staring transfixed past the indolent fog of hot chai latte
and onto the stretched streaks of golden-haired light
Declining selfishly through the broken window
along the dull corridor, paint stripping off and ashen;
The light grazing just past your elegant body in black
while you, blissfully assured look past the streaks
and onto the scurry of busy nothingness beyond.

My eyes remain spellbound, riveted on you as the latte smoke
provide a sensation of cold mist in the summer heat,
Your henna embraced fingers solicitously pushing
your crimson streaked hair behind your ear,
While your softly lined lips murmur songs, but dare not hymn
With a gentle tepid smile worn around the kink of your lower lip;

You bend down to take your empty cup of green tea from the ground,
The light finally outlining you while my pupils dilate to follow; and
my fingers leisurely trace your finely drawn back
from your hip to your neck, from behind the fog,
as you stand up with a veiled patient chill tickling your spine.

Your fingers tightly gripped on to the empty cup,
you start walking away from the sorrowful streaks of yellow
towards me;
Only to take a left turn to an open door, and to pause;
Just so your tantalizing eyes can glance at my cooled down hot chai latte
with a groove of a smile hidden behind your stretched kajol;
No smoke to impede the gaze, the petite glimpse of love,
yet so blissfully profound;

All barren thoughts are lost and my eyes unselfishly smile.
They stare back at the corridor, no mist to beautify,
and onto the same stretched streaks of golden-haired light;
I see only the blackness rejuvenating its beauty,
and nothing.

Link to poem published in the Rising Stars, The Daily Star

This poem has also been used in a script of a short film I had made in the summer of 2011 titled “Dreams.” You can watch the short film in Youtube or in Vimeo.