You

The evening breeze tries to flip the pages of the daily
As I sit near the window
Crossword puzzle on my lap
I still have that pen you had given me
As a return gift
For the poem I had written for you
And which you had liked a lot
“Damn! What’s the word for this?”
I suddenly feel the urge to shout your name
I am sure you’d have had the answer to this damn clue
As you had
To every question of mine
Answers
Not perfect, but always reassuring!

I still feel you in this empty house
In the pillows you’d hit me with to show your appreciation
For my lame jokes
In the nail-paint I had gifted you
To go with your tunic
Or in the dazzling aroma of your perfume wafting
Through my imagination as I enter the bedroom every time

I try to find traces of you
In the books we’d read together
The Calvin and Hobbes coffee mugs we occasionally sat with
The corner seats of our favourite movie theatre
Old, decrepit bookshops; the dingy bars and quaint coffee-shops
But never the graveyard!

2 thoughts on “You

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