And I wait

In an intense, poignant, serene and soulful poem, Anumita explores waiting, with all its expectancies and hopes.

It’s Sunday and I wait,

will soon hear your footsteps.

The right one heavier than the left                            

it hurts after the fall.

As you skirt around me softly

and kneel down in pain.


It’s noon and I wait,

the church bells are ringing.

Can feel the winds pickup

announcing your presence to me.

Arms laden with blooms of purple hue

you will bring just for me.


It’s frigid and I wait,

it snowed throughout the night.

The snow scatters around you

as you brush them off my face.

Your hands covering every inch

and its warmth penetrates.


You talk and I wait,

the baritone of your voice.

Wishful wonders of our days

you will so warmly narrate.

Will bask in the splendor of your story

blissful and glowing.


Seasons change and I wait,

the fallen leaves are dried now.

Your face has new lines

they deepen as your smile.

Wish to touch just one more time

tracing along the contours.


You will leave and I wait,

for the footsteps on the Sunday noon.

Your fingers pressed on my name

the cold slab of white marble.

Your tears soak into the earth

a promise to be together again.


Text and pix by author

Anumita C. Roy

Anumita C. Roy

Anumita Chatterjee Roy is an artist at heart. She has an eye for the unusual. Her naturescapes make her the quintessential Romantic. She paints, is passionate about photography, creates word images in her verses and loves to write. She cooks delicacies and is a foodie. Born in India, she was brought up in several countries. These strengthened the global citizen in her. She now lives in the Columbus, Ohio, with her husband and two sons.
Anumita C. Roy