Day 11: A flower's story
Carnation flowers
Sitting in the park
On that winter's evening
sounds of kids were mixed with the birds';
A book of my favorite stories,
dozing off on the grass near me.
My eyes were fixed on that snoring page
when your fingers had first touched mine.
I remember, that day, you'd given me a blue carnation.
You visited me in the hostel room
The warden frowned but let you in
You didn't care for my friends' pretence
my room mate had also found an excuse
Tinkle in your smile was all I heard
were there also giggles outside?
I later found a mauve carnation on the bed.
It smelled the same as
the scent on the bottom of your neck
You held my hand through that lecture
The professor decided to not notice
Sitting in the back row, you wrote me a note
to meet you in our special corner
we went separately to those stairs
where we talked about so many things
You told me about the crimson flower.
Those classes bunked, lies to parentssecret routes for afternoon with youGiving naughty names to hidden molesno profanity of name or promiselife felt pure, as it should be.
Time blossomed with pink carnations
Leaving your city, it was my final day
You woke me up before the cuckoo's call
We didn't waste a second that day
but the dreaded night did fall.
Standing near your door, to see you off
Couldn't muster courage to say good bye
Just touched your face, and turned away
The world was hazy, to my eye
.
.
.
Between yellowed pages, I found a carnation today
Gone years have taken away its colors
But those must be signs of drew drops
'coz you once told me, "Flowers don't cry"
© Ankush Agarwal12-Apr-2020
Sitting in the parkOn that winter's evening
sounds of kids were mixed with the birds';
A book of my favorite stories,
dozing off on the grass near me.
My eyes were fixed on that snoring page
when your fingers had first touched mine.
I remember, that day, you'd given me a blue carnation.
You visited me in the hostel room
The warden frowned but let you in
You didn't care for my friends' pretence
my room mate had also found an excuse
Tinkle in your smile was all I heard
were there also giggles outside?
I later found a mauve carnation on the bed.
It smelled the same as
the scent on the bottom of your neck
You held my hand through that lecture
The professor decided to not notice
Sitting in the back row, you wrote me a note
to meet you in our special corner
we went separately to those stairs
where we talked about so many things
You told me about the crimson flower.
Those classes bunked, lies to parentssecret routes for afternoon with youGiving naughty names to hidden molesno profanity of name or promiselife felt pure, as it should be.
Time blossomed with pink carnations
Leaving your city, it was my final day
You woke me up before the cuckoo's call
We didn't waste a second that day
but the dreaded night did fall.
Standing near your door, to see you off
Couldn't muster courage to say good bye
Just touched your face, and turned away
The world was hazy, to my eye
.
.
.
Between yellowed pages, I found a carnation today
Gone years have taken away its colors
But those must be signs of drew drops
'coz you once told me, "Flowers don't cry"
© Ankush Agarwal12-Apr-2020
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