Love, A Reflection

In a world without mirrors,

sans judgement,

and harsh glares,

I would spend

the vanity left in me

to cry, then reflect...

I become my mirror.

And, in the images

flashing by,

droplets of cold sweat

provide gloss

as well as the shivers.

Then, three hours past midnight

I touch her,

she kisses me,

and we see

our reflections merge,

within hand-held Amoled frames.

... In a world without mirrors,

three hours past midnight!

-- Leslie 

Humid Hangover

This humid blanket,

the fever it gifts,

​is all ​I can muse on,

​and scribble on the wet floor.

The rain stopped last night,

the songs this morning,

and the still air offers​ a wry smile​;

it tells me of today,

yet yanks me into timelessness,

where it shows​​

in infinite ways, love​...​​

​A few drops touch me,

others ​kiss ​the leaves 

and ​rusty ​park benches;

soothing them first,

drowning them later.

​-- Leslie

Peachy Love

​​​​Fresh flowers, moist,
float down,
​a bit after t​​he morning sun
lit up your eyes..​.
​
The buds reach your lips,
swaying down from their pedestal,
the lone peach tree up the hill​.​
Coerced​ down by the whiff of 
a mint-laced mountain breeze
​- his breath reaches yours​,​
his soul ​touches your lips,
a dance follows,
​serene like a river's flow,
wild like its roar.​​

The solitary Peach tree near The Goat Village Nagtibba (Pic: Sreetama Bagchi)

Homemade Heaven!

Winter, her morning songs, calls for a dance; but the heart wraps itself in summer, his lullaby... A good layer of fleece, thick skin of cotton, and a fine lining of love. It's complete -- my homemade heaven!

Pic by Sreetama Bagchi (Instagram: @sreetamabagchi)