A Strand of You
I was on the table 
When a strand of your hair came calling. 
I could see you in the kitchen, 
Your face at once a storm and a breeze.
I curled the single strand of loving you into imagined
shapes 
And spoke to it of fascinating tales. 
And as it played on my fingers, 
Twirling, and curling
I could hear the music from its silent songs.
I had half the heart to carry it with me home 
And hide it in a book marked you. 
It smelt like July Flowers. 
It smelt so much of you.
First published in Indian Sahitya, Feb 2017 Issue on Contemporary Indian Poetry