Rowving Smith

7 Seven

You tucked the blanket tightly
And kissed my forehead lightly
I can close my eyes
And still remember
The nice smell of your hair

You opened the window
To let in the air
And the sunshine
With watery eyes
And a burning head
I was helpless but happy

That was the day
I really felt
That mind and the body
Are two separate things

Though my body was sick
And lying on the bed
My mind was a butterfly
Fluttering around...

It was the seventh day
Seventh day after we met
Accidently at the bus stop

The world was frozen
Even the heat
Radiating from the
Red hot burner
On the wall
Was frozen
Snow and ice all around

You were trying to close
Your ears with your mitted hands
With a mist flowing
From your nose
Soon a sigh
Which froze on the glass
Making it opaque....

I gave my spare touque
Which I carried in my bag
Those are easy to loose
And I always did...

Next day you were there
At the bus halt
Waiting for me
Wearing my touque
With the little yellow sun

'Oh I would have lost
It anyway...' I said...

Then only I saw
The little package
You were giving me
A dark blue touque
With a white moon...

So began the creation
Of the earth and the heavens
And on the seventh day...
I had to rest.... because I was sick
It was good.

Submitted: Tuesday, March 25, 2008
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