My swing hangs on my mango tree,
and you’ve spent the afternoon
here with me; it’s been warm and we’ve
got wine and we’ve barely moved.
We’ve been talking of travel, you and I,
we both know what it’s like to miss home.
I haven’t been that attached to anywhere
but you, you love England so.
I ask you if you love her rainy skies,
your eyes mist over with memories
as you sigh; I ask if you want to be there
now and you ask me if I’m coming too.
I think about it and I say ‘No’,
‘Thank you’, and ‘I don’t think so’.
You nod, a part of you knew,
but it didn’t hurt to ask me.
I prod you gently with my bare feet,
you look so funny sprawled on the lawn
in your office clothes, tie undone,
and you squint up at me with your green cat eyes.
I tease you because you love winter
and you’re sad you missed that weather
for a whole year and instead poor you,
you’re stuck in India’s warm glowing summer.
I giggle as I reach for the bowl of popcorn
and I flick my wrist up and send it
soaring skywards; I stick my tongue out at you
as it falls around us; I yell ‘There, it’s snowing for you!’
You sit up suddenly as I’m laughing
and you grab my waist and pull me in towards you;
our eyes meet and we both know
we can’t possibly go anywhere with this, but even so;
you lean in towards me and I think I smile,
I part my lips in readiness as you do the same
and my eyes close as our mouths meet
gently for that special first kiss.
You tell me later that I tasted of sunshine,
and salty popcorn and strawberry wine,
and you will always remember kissing me
on a warm June day in India, sitting on popcorn snow.
© A. Vardaraj — All Rights Reserved