Skip to main content

Gift



I gift her shampoos, whole wheat flour, soaps and instant oats
pencils and home food
not porcelain mugs, vases or bouquet of fancy candies
nor DVDs or moonlit nights

it is my way of saying something
that something is yet unknown to me
or to my mind
the word “something” is limiting
“everything” has unlimited exposition

she brings the gift of selfies with
a face full of pain and tears
much more than this
she gifts me unlimited horizons
of laughing over situations
that are gifted to us

she likes those gifts or that’s what she says
she gives me love (not a cliché)
of the kind that’s unimaginable
it is beautiful than love itself
although it is not love
it is neither anything else

she shows her recently shampooed hair
and I see the scene in a slow motion
and the aroma touches my nostrils
and she washes her face at a tap
in an open-air café
and let the water dry, naturally
she loves the coolness of the water
and I look at her face
that has a sudden glow
is it the water?

then she walks and talks and laughs and nods
and listens without listening
the immaculate attention that she doesn’t give
or the phases of her naughty eye movements

irrespective of what I gift to her
or what she gives me as a return gift
I find her trajectory of living riveting

Ella es un regalo
y cuando cierro los ojos
todo lo que veo es un niño





Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The warmth of a ballad that is you

Few hours are already gone but the aroma of that one hour in the morning today brilliantly matches the feeling that you get when you meet someone who is prepossessing, with the eyes that sparkle perpetually and the wise fragrance of the warmth that starts with a generous hug and sets the day as a therapy in action that beautiful heartful hour when the city was flirting with half sun and half of patchy clouds, was a kind of a poem if one considers steaming breakfast and a animated chatter with a loving human as a complete verse All of it, now that I recall was like a spiritual serendipity, a subtle mindfulness something that I really wish I can describe in these random lines Soulful connections do not always happen randomly there is this organic urge to meet, confabulate and ignite our worlds with each others' presence Your presence is a soothing tender balm and as I take this deep breath and close my eyes I imagine this day would perch in my mind as a sunny bright day where the coo

A

Your aura is consistently brewing in my intractable mind need I say I am drenched in it? the day I met you, and it is so recent like the flower that has bloomed  in this spring of transcendence the beating heart and the soulful parleys co-existed, at least for me, in those three hours the beguilement of your demeanor  and the insights of your innocence it is all embedded in the cells of my prefrontal cortex, refusing to vanish, reluctant to let-go I cannot detach your thoughts from my current state of meditative nonchalance and that is how it has to be as a strain of Sun  touches the feet when I write this at the cusp where the departing winter morning seduces in its spell I can't help but smile and close my eyes I am smitten in a most undiscernible way It is subtle in many ways, definitely profound from another version of my own truth and there are few side effects my intellect has become more illuminated and I am charmed into new  horizons of hope I cannot really explain this so

Your eyes, that smile

your eyes translate your inner conflicts immaculately they shed tears when skewed by innocence or when you rise in love I always see your eyes when i visit that cafe and in the shadow of all the noises of food and cutlery I sneak my glances at you not so deliberately or so it appears if someone could sue me for being lustful towards your eyes I will go broke that smile spoils my character it's like meditation I lose myself all the while the combination is tyrannical for my beliefs