BEDSHEETS

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Pic Courtesy : Anindita Bose

My head resting on its cotton dreams,
sees the damask pane
or say an eye —
with a half closed lid in front of an halogen.

The brightness adjusted to a much softier tone,
some call ‘presence’ —
That’s you.

And then my walk to the porch —
for a moth to buzz by my coffee, spilling some on mine
I call that ‘life’.

Such shots by blinks
only to be post processed into a lawn
That’s you.

I re-enter, only to see my coverage —
from base to apex and vice-versa
I form an ‘L’.

That’s my side of the bed, some call ‘shore’
I spot the sea at a distance
bringing in a flock of waves —
along with a high tide.

I redo my bedsheets
I remove the blanket.

I kiss you.

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