That Reminds Me Of You
That Reminds Me Of You
You come to me
Not in scripted pictures of the mind
Rather, in unanticipated flashes, all day.
Maybe all night.
If I dream.
Flashes, that are mundane
That the commonfolk dismiss
With a wave of passing days
And rusted, faded concern.
In careless abandon.
You come to me:
Like the soft gleam of dawn
In thoughts of dewy grass
Or tiny purple wildflowers on them
That you carefully skirt,
While I walk beside you.
Or in a sudden craving
For sugar spun roses at midnight
Because I don't know what semblance
Would be more befitting
For your lips.
Or maybe when I see a soda can
That you meticulously throw in a bin, always.
Or a pristine white marble slab
Because it reminds me of your plectrum.
That makes magic.
Or when I come across red chillies
Or spiced popcorn, or a packet of buttermilk
Or molten cheese or heart shaped boxes
Even a muddy puddle when it rains.
We both know why...
There are so many things
That I want to point out and say
"There, that reminds me of you, too!"
But that'd take a lifetime,
And beyond.
Because with you, prosaic turns phenomenal.
Or maybe, it's just YOU.