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