A poignant love poem from Bhawini.

I do not know,
Those favourite flowers,
Which when presented,
Taint the cheeks a blushing pink.

Yet I know,
From the deep sooty packets
Beneath your eyes
Exactly on which nights
Has sleep eluded your weary eyelids?

I do not know,
The wine you prefer
Or the chocolates or desserts
That call you to the table.

Yet I know,
From the weakness that lurks,
As quiver in your voice,
Exactly on which days
Have your meals skipped you.

I do not know,
Which of Austen or Keats
Or Dickens or Tennyson
Captivate you.

Yet I know,
From the tender glow of the forehead,
The blossom of thoughts,
And their manifestation
As spark in your eyes.

I do not know,
The texture of your watery silk gown,
Or how it dazzles
In the shimmer of party lights.

Yet I know,
From that stark echo of hollow laughter
Riding on the crest and fall of your heart
Exactly how lonely,
You’ve been amidst the crowd.

I do not know,
The brand of your perfume
Or to which designer you owe those ripples of your dress
Neither the store you pick your danglers from.

Yet I know,
From one of those breezy evenings,
A hint of your smell,
So free
Like the unexpected drizzle.

I do not know,
Your taste of music
Or the steps of your waltz
As your blissful feet tap to rhythms unknown.

Yet I know,
From the hushed songs in your breath,
The reach of your hands
And the incline of your head
How night and stars serenade you.

I do not know,
The volume
Nor the whiff
Of your cascading locks.

Yet I know,
Something of the secrets those tresses hide
Of downcast eyes
Tales of eclipsed moon
And those expectant yet unfulfilled nights.

I do not know,
The salon
Where you get your
Manicures and pedicures done.

Yet I know,
From the clink of your bangles,
And the scrawl on your notebooks
The fluid motion of your hands
And your very touch.

I do not know,
The girdle of your tiny waist
Or the bent of your neckline
Neither the sway of your gait.

Yet I know,
From the meshed meandering patterns of veins
Standing against your supple clear skin
Exactly what soothes
Or enrages you.

I do not know,
What it’s like to trace your collar with fervent kisses
Or to silence your busy lips,
With a smooch.

Yet I know,
From the slight inclinations of your being
What it is
In the shadow of your eyelashes
To make love to your soul.

So the next time,
When your eyes take
That ruby hue
From the sting of unshed tears
And the pounding of your heart
Spills breaths across your cheeks
Just call me once
Only once,
And you’ll have me for a lifetime.

Picture design Anumita Roy

Bhawini Tripathi

Bhawini Tripathi feels strongly about some issues and writes about those. Psychological issues and nature as a great teacher beacons her. Poems are her chosen genre though she pens prose too. She is currently pursuing my Bachelor of Technology from J.K. Institute of Applied Physics & Technology, University of Allahabad.

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