FOR THE LOVE OF POETRY

Summer twenty fifteen

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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