A bird flutters by,
Up, to kiss the sky,
It struggles, soaring through the wind,
A feather, detaches from the wing.
It sways and falls,
Leaves nudge, breaking it’s fall,
Bent on purpose, eludes their bait,
To act decisively in my fate.
Wind dispersing swirl and twirl,
Guided it to our world,
A bench, in the park,
Beneath a mighty tree’s arch.
Thick green growth on wooden foot,
As if green mossy, withered boots,
Spring set to ripen beauty’s fruit,
We sat beneath, to devour our loot.
Deep yellow vines came down,
To answer, cause of your frown,
Blame lie with prickly sun light,
Then them vines, checked it’s might.
Like ripples of touched waters,
Dotted vines, small white flowers,
Portrayed nimbus behind your head,
Divinity & charm,
Woven in one thread.
Then there came the feather,
From the sky, a courier,
A parcel of untold sequence,
Delivering moments, that aren’t so frequent.
Oh so, gently it brushed your hair,
Them so glossy, like silver wares,
It slid down further, caught a strand,
Then swung from there, a flag atop,
Queens very own heartland.
The strand dropped it to the peak,
Of your raised, cerise cheek,
And presented the perfect call,
For contrast of ruby and pearl.
Dawdle it ebbed away,
Helpless, but lured to ‘smiling’s bay’,
Overwhelmed, but by tides after tides,
Of your allure & playful smiles,
It turned & took to leave,
Jumping clear off your chin’s cliff.
Peacefully it then rested on your blade,
In company of black silken drapes,
It’s journey ended purposely,
From its throne, looked around delightedly.
It’s trail tickles you fervently,
Attention shifts from me mildly,
Glibly, you look around for source,
And here I am driven by a force.
To still you,
I hold you by shoulders,
The touch happens,
My palms grow colder,
My blood shy away from yours,
I still search for cures.
Sliding the black drapes aside,
Gently I pick the feather, as my aide,
& place it in my palm’s centre,
For you to have a look better.
From your face, its inches apart,
Wind gushes, the feather departs,
We look as it blows,
To reach beyond hills and coves.
You then look at me,
Smiling angelically through lips & bree,
Sleek, you tilt your head,
Resting it on my palm outstretched.
By the gesture you assured,
Issues of trust wouldn’t, ever be broached,
As long as you would reign,
My world, wouldn’t nurture that sin.
Finally I pulled you closer,
Draping an arm for closure,
Head on shoulder & head over head,
We sat, witnessing autumn’s tread.
Our first meet,
My first touch,
I don’t know when it’s ‘much’,
The time cannot rub off ‘the touch’
For I will hold you such.