The Midnight Supper


On the dining table,
She smiles as she eats,
The sound of the cutlery too seems a melody,
The heated dinner,
He had cooked for her,
The smell penetrates her mind,
As she was there against him,
When he played with the spoons.

‘So you know that too’, she had asked,
He then smirked,
Clutched her from the back and kissed,
‘I know this the best, rest I can manage when you are around,
I can walk on the waters,
I can fly in the sky,
I can reach down the ocean,
I can cheat the lingering fire,
Because all those are just the background,
In the picture of you and me.’

He then said she was his world,
His desire,
His dream,
Moving his bare hands on the vessel with glee.

He did this the best too,
She savors as she eat.
A drop falling from her eye,
That is not a cry,
That is not the wain,
But her thudding heart,
Reminding her of the hours insane.

It was just a month ago,
When they jumped from uphill,
Clutching each other’s fists tight,
She didn’t trust the hanging ropes or the belts,
But the grasp of his arms,
The pacifying smell.

They saw the river brimming,
As they looked away,
When they fell,
He then said,
He loved her,
For nights and the days,
On his hands was the ring,
He then slid it, through her way,
Her thudding heart then had no choice,
She knew that it will happen one day,
But this day,
Was it then chosen to turn divine?

Today is the day, when she turned twenty two,
She woke up at seven and caught his glimpse,
While arranging the table
He counted the candles with a wide grin,
She realized,
Back down the memory lanes,
She had those years getting rewind,
She is a pretty daughter,
An insane girl,
She does anything that her mind says,
But never crumbled one,
She is reckless,
She hates the bars,
She dreams in day,
Nights are always her working hours.
Those were the ones that took her far,
She smiled at him and blew the candles, par,
Sunk into depths of her temple,
Looking down the bright sun,
Through the diaphanous plate,
Seventy first floor.

Nothing has changed in hours, but the sun is set,
Looking down the city lights,
Seventy first floor,
She sitting in her diner,
Staring at her studded finger,
The diamond that cannot be finer.
She then thinks,
That is what she dreamed of,
Dozing off in the last bench of her classroom,
Looking through the escape path to the woods,
With the clouds drizzling.
Oh, yes she did.
She owns the power now,
She owns her aspirations to succeed,
She has him,
She has her life,
Life, which had that mere dream.

Still the separation of his from hers,
Tickles a sensation,
She wonders,
Was that the pain?
She subdues it, by the supper,
The midnight supper,
The solitary supper,
The solitary midnight supper, in the rain.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s