Thursday, February 3, 2011

Princess I would be. If I grew up on time. But I did waste years trying to drive away bees from the backyard orchid, so that I could kiss the dew drops every dawn. They looked like little secrets hiding under the belly of green bosomed dwarfs. The crimson skies gave away their hideouts naively, and I, bartered their love for my kisses that drove them wild. The crystals of dew vanished on my touch, and I got a million different forms of love. They took away my diaries filled with poems of nascent promises, took away my erasers that smelled of rainbows and surf, took away my sepia evening dreams, took away the tangerine whisperings…and gave me the first hint of blush. That was the deal all right

My princess dreams no more lives, nor does the orchid and the bees. The only thing that stayed were the little crystals of forbidden touch. I had slyly hid some of the morning tears between the tangles of my locks…I kiss the ripples on my head no more, but the different forms of love still do waltz in my dreams at dusk and dawn.

3 comments:

Romeo Das said...

You are not less than a princess :)
Anyways, nicely penned down Ipsita!:)

Ipsita said...

all of us are so..in our own ways then. :-)

Dutta said...

This reminded me of one my favorite poems by Rabindra Nath Tagore ... "on the nature of love" ...

A princess no more, A queen may be; The King may be a bore, so let his Joker be ....