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I had met you on a day when red flowers
stormed a hesitant sky. I couldn't understand then
the red saree, the red bindi and your red bangles,
abrasions scarring a river that I had never known,
the red tram that took us to Park Street, broke through
your smile and small talk, drinking tea of chipped cups,
your red lips, you knew I yearned to write of
subterfuges and shadows
in a rundown cafe closing the sun,
even the rising moon broke
in a rendezvous of red horizon
sifting memories on a balcony,
whispers of a red flower on
another sudden day. |
