Indebted A Million And More! Poem by Seema joglekar

A lifetime may fall short for a love to suffice,
What’s caught in twinkle of an eye, the heavens can’t revise
Names etched in gneiss, will bring not lost eternity,
Heed love, ebbing tides in destiny’s hand, may not always agree.

What journeyed miles that faraway look in your eyes burn,
With my first haul of kisses, it is from there I return,
There, when we first met, rich was I, with so much in store,
Smothered with near misses? Now you owe me a million and more!

It all began with consecrating a kiss uninhibited.
One for the sunshine smile, another for that look- contented,
One for the way of conveying quietly, shadows embracing,
One for a trick of thought, played graciously, me listening.

Grew manifold, when you tip-toed in my thoughts and stood vigil,
For times when you never tried to break my pride or bow my will,
For the give and take of glances and breaths caught,
And the times we went home with a song in our heart.

For the grief I gave all at once, one the salt of my tears,
That you resiliently bore, the other curdled in those sighing years.
Some martyred over those jealous fits and sleepless nights,
Some saved for times when in our fervor the sky ignites.

A hundred for breaking my morn, and startling dew,
Another for the noon bustle, to sear and not let the fumes show,
For evenings red halo-see a benediction hover,
For moonlit walks on avenues where shivering stars lower.

Thousand for steaming summers;
Heated sonnets, jealous fits, in restraining fight and muscle agur,
Bowers and meadows take a demure look, scorched in sun’s ardor,

Thousand for the wanton rite of spring;
When wind teasing plucks, flower-petals with the lover’s chant,
Great neural energy, over ablaze hills, resounding he love’s me, he love’s me not.

Thousand for the monsoons;
Eyes speak more than lips seal, what Insatiable green hunger meant,
A letdown of wetness and tears, wondering where the lightening went.

Thousand for brooding Autumn;
Trees in group hypnosis, drift fluff knee high,
Winds wail grief of many partings, every rustle bracing rushes by..

Thousand warmer for sordid winters;
In dawn’s flushed gathering light, flesh hurts and bones rattle,
Icicles dropped on our dreams, a reason to seek warmth and huddle.

Come into my life, a way to retrieve my debt I shall find,
To the circling seasons, good times devoid, how I foolishly blind,
While in bad times, you stood ground and my frivolities bore,
Both weighed you outshine, I fall short by score,
Indebted I am -millions and many more


Seema.Joglekar-23rd October-2011