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The wait..(Ek interzaar)
The wait..
As she honoured the knots of togetherness thinking on destined ripples glides to emotions within,
Leaving a bunch of loved ones and
taking heap memory from timezones.
But eutopia felt content as new profound raw last love was waiting at ends,
With hands blended with the freshness of henna and adornments of sixteen (solah shringar) mandatory for nuptial bliss walking deliberately with grace,
Entwined palms feel of lingering togetherness blossoming into her virgin selves,
A paradise of two loved bodies and souls was a perfect reflection from her fantasies that was what a woman craves for the right entity,
She had a soul mate who was but vowed also for another motherland,
A fierce soldier and always rage to defeat the enemies at wars.
The days of togetherness and purity to the freshness of new blossoms we're just a week closed doors and passion of hunger making them both weak, longing for touch were all that both felt all erotic days weren't at the mercy of time rays of sunlights to silence weaving nights spoke of temptation.
Suddenly, as if spell to love was broken with shrill chimes and news of the presence of her beloved to be hasty in strides with sour hearts she waved the goodbyes saying,
"Oh my bestowed Love, will wait for you but promise me to please come soon."
As he zooms off from her visionaries her last see of her loved one hurting a heart within she tasted first dews of salty waters rolling from the fluffy cheeks and time didn't abide and she waited on window panes as days to months onto years,
The days were filled with house chores but night wrecked her feeling clinging to cushions wept the lady,
Soon juncture left in hand we're just past a week moments, dragging on and a day came when news on T.V. sets brought a hurricane of sorrow,
Tamed to hollowness visions bleak there she saw in bold headlines names of shaheed...
And there ended a merciless saga with social norms of traditions breaking her first solah shingaar, to shaving off her beautiful tassels of hair, where once glints were of various hues now faded clinging in white linen,
A young widower living in shallow walls of void agony as sorrows became her best friend and one who held hands once with lifelong promises turned into a soul waving his goodbyes from Heaven walking towards the path of eternity but leaving behind a wicked spell of just
W A I T ..... Forever.
@ pic courtesy : pinrest
© Soni Mirchandani
As she honoured the knots of togetherness thinking on destined ripples glides to emotions within,
Leaving a bunch of loved ones and
taking heap memory from timezones.
But eutopia felt content as new profound raw last love was waiting at ends,
With hands blended with the freshness of henna and adornments of sixteen (solah shringar) mandatory for nuptial bliss walking deliberately with grace,
Entwined palms feel of lingering togetherness blossoming into her virgin selves,
A paradise of two loved bodies and souls was a perfect reflection from her fantasies that was what a woman craves for the right entity,
She had a soul mate who was but vowed also for another motherland,
A fierce soldier and always rage to defeat the enemies at wars.
The days of togetherness and purity to the freshness of new blossoms we're just a week closed doors and passion of hunger making them both weak, longing for touch were all that both felt all erotic days weren't at the mercy of time rays of sunlights to silence weaving nights spoke of temptation.
Suddenly, as if spell to love was broken with shrill chimes and news of the presence of her beloved to be hasty in strides with sour hearts she waved the goodbyes saying,
"Oh my bestowed Love, will wait for you but promise me to please come soon."
As he zooms off from her visionaries her last see of her loved one hurting a heart within she tasted first dews of salty waters rolling from the fluffy cheeks and time didn't abide and she waited on window panes as days to months onto years,
The days were filled with house chores but night wrecked her feeling clinging to cushions wept the lady,
Soon juncture left in hand we're just past a week moments, dragging on and a day came when news on T.V. sets brought a hurricane of sorrow,
Tamed to hollowness visions bleak there she saw in bold headlines names of shaheed...
And there ended a merciless saga with social norms of traditions breaking her first solah shingaar, to shaving off her beautiful tassels of hair, where once glints were of various hues now faded clinging in white linen,
A young widower living in shallow walls of void agony as sorrows became her best friend and one who held hands once with lifelong promises turned into a soul waving his goodbyes from Heaven walking towards the path of eternity but leaving behind a wicked spell of just
W A I T ..... Forever.
@ pic courtesy : pinrest
© Soni Mirchandani
