Wednesday, 9 January 2019

The Footsteps


There were mornings, cold and bitter,
When I sat in that class with a pensive heart
(a heart that had since declared love you)
And my mind wondered what you’d wear
Would it be that tight dress,
The one that enhanced every feature in you
Or a mere trouser that did not arouse any lewd thoughts
But before I could conjure an image
My heart would catch your shoes tapping the floor
And synchronize your footsteps with its beats
All the while chanting, I am in love with you
And, beautifully, you never knew about it

No comments:

Post a Comment