You and I

You remind me

of white lilies

– the ones that grow

in open green fields,

seen from tiny windows

of picket fenced houses.

Cloudy, Sunday mornings

when the winter breeze

made music, from fallen

orchard leaves

swaying to the wind,

before kissing the ground.

When noon skies blaze

a longing for solitude,

away from household madness

– far from pandemonium

under Jacaranda trees

of red blossomed flowers.

At dusk, skies blush

shades of pink and orange;

a film of mist wraps

the open fields ahead.

Unhooking rusty latches,

I close wooden windows.

Before I set in for the night,

I think of tomorrow

and of days to come

– promises and little surprises

of white lilies, orchard leaves

Jacaranda trees and pink skies;

everything that holds, a story

of you and I.

*First published by Pratilipi.