This is More

You are the bright light in a room
where even the dull lamps
used to add to the gloom.

You are the beat of a song;
violins, in which,
only deepen the blue.

You are the mirror
when the sunrays’ so bright,
it blinds.

I am the room, the song, the sun.
And you,
You are the bright light, the beat,

the mirror and the bearer of this.

This, that won't fit into a title.
This, a thousand words plus minus
those three words.
This, growing tall. smiling proud,
This.

Autumn comes. Autumn leaves.
Your smile lifts the spirit of fallen leaves.
This.

Your eyes warm, forgiving yet strong;
keep my winter shoulders curious, unproud.

This.

Your words fierce- make me ponder.
Gratifying conversations;
unexpected turns,
Spring in my step as we saunter.
This.

Your wry wink hits me in May
A snowflake piercing through,
to cool my summer heart.
This.

Your calm makes the white noise
of monsoon
a background score;

Necessary, irrelevant
clamour of the bistro at brunch
This makes me think,
makes me drown,
makes me dream, doodle, drink.

This feels like home.
Not my childhood home, not the hostel room.
Not the city pad shared with 4 other girls.
A nostalgia-ridden homesickness

A time, place, people, space 

that don't exist anymore. Flawed and good. 

This is the paper, the ink and the poem.
This.

And this,

This is just the beginning.
It might even be the dawn of the beginning.

If I believed in soul mates, I’d say I found mine.
If I enjoyed clichés, I’d say opposites attract.
If I participated in trivialising the word ‘happiness’,
I’d say you make me happy.
If I did songs like the Dire Straits,
I’d sing the streets a serenade,
find a convenient streetlight, 

Step out of the shade
Say something like,
“You and me babe how about it?”