I knew I was going to write
A book on love, a book of love
Almost a hundred years ago
Its unwritten draft has been
Luring and tempting me often
In small scattered moments
Moments that have been
Difficult to capture and frame
Fleeting and flying fast
Moments weaving their way
Through your smile, your frown
Your dagger, your crown
Moments splashing & oozing
Flowing through our brook
Of fragrant togetherness
Had it not been for you being
So complexly engrossing
I could have finished my book now
Why do you have to be so
Pure and so giving in love
While I still wonder if I can measure it?
While I pretend to be a thinker lost
In definitions and theories, Your
Love is light-years ahead of mine
While we explore decades and centuries
Unfolding life, and each other more, I might
Truly learn to love in another millennium
I guess I will write that book then…!
© Makarand
26.4.18
Makarand Pathak 