Pretty Wrists And A Cold Shoulder Poem by Nishant Ohri

Strolled into the same old labyrinth
Looking for something or someone new
Was not worried about losing my way
Took no path other than we usually do.

Only the least fortunate meet with accidents so pleasant
There stood such elegance in the treacherous terrain
Refined wrists as steady as the hazel eyes
The dream would not last, I begged we met again

Wondered if ‘no’ would end it
- better still than ‘I don’t know’
Or than no answer at all.
The wrists stayed still in their proper glow.

Silly insistence stood little chance
There was no humor in her disapproving sway
It was just simple, straight and pretty
And forever narrow it was to stay

Last warm radiance of the dusk
Cheerfully escaped Apollo’s hold
And reflected nervously on those tangerine nails
As the shoulder turned cold.

A strange time it was in a stranger land
Anything would look inviting
Especially some stranger’s narrow hand.

Hope it stays forever young
Not narrow.