That dream – it keeps coming back to me,
it almost seems real.
You, you, you – in all your magnificence,
standing in our kitchen – laughing at my confused hungover face.
The smell of coffee, pancakes and you waft through the kitchen of our tiny apartment.
The night before, the same setting, a few bottles of wine – you, I and the counter.
You lift me with ease and place me gently on the same counter this morning – fragile I was but stronger with you.
The smell of your weak coffee fills my insides with warmth and happiness.
I’m lost in the hum of your tunes, you’re lost in making me my favourite meal – our apartment soaked up in our love.
Your soft lips on mine awaken me from my stupor- I grin like an idiot.
That Sunday morning – breakfast out on our balcony – monsoon showers – me in your arms – La Vie en Rose.
You, my love, my heartbeat, my fantasy – my recurring dream – I wait for you with abated breath.
Maybe next time when I pinch myself mid dream, you’ll still be here.
Note: I very rarely attempt writing poetry/prose. Most of my poetry is based on my true/real feelings. I had written this to cheer up someone dear some time back. Let me know what you think!
Photos from the internet.