HER GIFT

I haven’t kept any

record of the number of days

you gifted me the red roses.

‘My heart’ – you told me the first

time you gifted me the red rose

sorry ‘your heart’.

I haven’t kept any

record of the number of days

we kept our lips locked

enjoying honeyed moments.

I haven’t kept any

record of the number of stories I had told you

and depending upon the various moods and themes

the stories conveyed

I could read the moods

reflected on your face

smiles, laughs, love, agony and sorrow

while you were listening

in rapt attention and with deep interest.

I haven’t kept any record

of the number of times we melt into one.

I haven’t kept any record 

of the number of times

the dusk of gloom conquered you

the reason for which you refused

to reveal with teary eyes.

Now that you are beyond my reach

I am very well aware of the

reason behind the shadow of darkness

falling over your face.