Digging deep
it’s the 90’s and we’re young
I am just 12 smelling like chocolates and candies
and you, a boy with a stubble beard
'I love you', you tell me coming as easy as the scent from the blue aroma incense sticks from you
with a freaky smile of a teenager,
and I say 'yes' perplexed like a helium balloon in the moist air.

It’s monsoon again
and I’m searching for my poetry
when, 'will you marry me when we grow up?'you smile,
your eyes give a squinch and I love it, a reassuring one
Spilling thousands of promises into the air,
and I give a deep breath, a sign of trust.
Escalating the tides of my silly self,
I render a broken ‘ye-s’ while watching a frog leap aimlessly
embracing the only season which wrote about its beauty..

The rain, and your eyes like the raisins
Ma used to give me with my...