You tasted like

An orange popsicle

In mid-summer afternoon

By the lake;

Like cotton candy

In pink and blue

Fluffed in perfect swirls.

You smelt like

Freshly watered grass

With daffodils scattered

Amongst them;

Like the sea

With it’s clear water

And conch shells.

You sounded like

The collection of old records of

Jazz, pop and classical

Gramps played

On her sixty year old gramophone

As twilight came for tea

And the birds sang to tease;

The collection I had crooning

In the cassette walkman

Twenty years later.

You felt like

The lavender cotton saree

I draped around

An unconfident body

In confidence,

To the reception

Under the chandelier

Made of stars and the moon itself.

You pricked like

The needles that imprinted

My skin with the words

Of my soul

Along the crevices of my spine.

You looked like

The whistling smile

Of eight;

Like the horizon

Ships chase

Along dawn and dusk.

You are

The breath of fresh air

That filled my lungs

With the fire

Sparked in my bones;

The choice I made

To imprint my fingerprints

On all that I touch;

Every step I take


Or aback.

You are

The house I built

With the bricks

I cemented.

You are freedom;

The sky

I let my wings


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