#8

​She walked through the same lane everyday

It reminded her of her father

He was compelled, rather lovingly, to bring a bunch of champa whenever he returned from his morning walk
Four for the pooja room

And one for her mother’s bun
The white cotton sari,

The red bindi

The black necklace around her neck

Failed to impress her

But never the Jasmine on her hair
She looked through the small window near the kitchen, 

The little romance her parents shared

A sly smile, a proud face

They exchanged their little nothings.
She wished she could see this everyday

The ritual still continues

But they live far away in the remote village

And she, in the concrete jungle.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “#8

  1. Such a sweet romance… 😍
    The parents miss their cutties even more whom they hv seen growing up as lovely loving independent smart individuals… N
    Now when they hv all the time to sipend with children… 😊

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s