Roots

Sunday, April 25, 2021

Their Wombs

Flecks of dust fly upwards
His each step creating a chaos 
His forgotten umbrella hangs
Behind the bedroom door  

His reminiscent wife hangs 
By the local's door 
She would reach Dadar now
An hour earlier than him
He would alight at Vity

She had whispered a secret
To the universe
Morning, today morning
The dust, the umbrella
The rod she clung to
Dadar and Vity
All had heard it

Wind carries her hair
Momentum tousles his

He didn't know yet
She would tell him
Evening, today evening

They both smile
The same instant

He thinks it is
The craziness of his run
She knows it is
Their blooming tiny secret

He presses his belly
With his left hand
Calming the running stitch
And with her free right hand
She hugs her waist
Completing the still picture
-
Chandni Girija
April 25, 2021

Day 25 of 30 | 30 Poems in 30 Days | National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo



 

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