FOR THE LOVE OF POETRY
Summer twenty fifteen
Brown hair, blue eyes, slim build
A frown here and there
Well-spoken with a wide range of vocab
He was a teacher, his subject; history
He said he’d been to India
He told us a funny story
About how this girl stepped on his face while he was sleeping
I found myself smiling on the train journey home later
He mentioned he lived in Harlesden
And he had chickens in his garden that lay eggs for him
I imagined him standing somewhere very green and leafy
Everything still damp from the English rain earlier
Weeks later I thought, oh how nice would it be
To stand with him, out in green and leafy Harlesden
The damp air kissing our skin softly
Me in my floral dress, and him with his mug of black coffee
But it will never be you see
As he’s leaving the British rain for the Arabian sun
Who knew this Bengali girl would be sweet on this English lad?
With his brown hair, blue eyes and slim build
Friday eyes on the train
I saw him
He saw me
The doors opened
I looked at his legs
He looked at me
He looked away
I looked at his face
He looked at my face
He smiled
With his mouth
And his eyes
I looked away
Flattered
He got off
I got on
The doors closed
In My Head
In my head, you were a velvety midnight blue with streaks of inky indigo
And a sprinkle of gold dust glimmering gently in the moonlight
But in reality, you were just the emulsion on a canvas before the starry night
This isn’t enough
Like a child late for school
Little feet pattering as fast as possible
And hands holding on to dad's fingertips
Just
This isn't enough