His Silence ( a poem)
I have a habit of falling in love
with people’s Silence.
The only voice we could hear
is of our breath
The tick tick of the clock
from our drawing room wall
The constant bark of the neighborhood dog
Or the sound of a daily peddler
who still sell for Rs 10.
I love that kind of silence
where we can just sit with chai
in our hand
And trying to sip the vapor as
we sit across each other and the tips of our feet touch on
your Veranda.
Which you recently have started calling ours.
Have I ever mentioned I love your silent smile
your uneven lips
those are the perfect smile I have seen in a while
And I fell for you maybe because of that.
Photo by Adam Wilson on Unsplash
