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A Poem For You...

A Poem For You...

2 mins 10.5K 2 mins 10.5K

‘You used to write poetry, right?’

I was humming a tune and before me, on the stove, sat a frying pan. I was moving the strainer through the oil and tossing the potato wedges submerged in it. It was our fifth anniversary. Last night we had a fight. Lately these petty fights had turned the romance quotient down a few notches. I never believed people when they said love reaches the saturation point with time. But apparently the epiphany was fast approaching.

‘Huh?’ I turned back. My husband was sitting at the dining table. The newspaper covered half his face. His eyebrows were scrunched together. It sure was some political fuss, or ups and downs of the stock market or last night’s IPL match. I shifted my focus to the potato wedges. They had now started spreading the enchanting smell.

‘Why did you stop writing?’ He repeated.

This time I caught his words. My heart stood still. I turned around. He was gazing at me. Why had I stopped? Why would someone leave their passion? Sudden rush of emotions rippled through my body and clogged my throat. My eyes dropped. I managed a strained smile. ‘I didn’t have the time.’

My husband binged on the special meal I’d prepared for him. I convinced myself I was happy... content... satisfied. What else a housewife could do? My savings had hit zero; buying a gift of his choice was out of the question. Having done the dishes, I walked to our bedroom. But my legs froze looking at the bed. The emotions finally found their way out through the rivulets rolling down my face.

It was a typewriter with a small red bow stuck on top of it. A note lay beside it - Write a poem for me…

As my fingers touched the keys, it seemed life was being injected into the numb veins of my body. I slid a paper in, set the margins and typed the first few words that came rushing to my heart -

The black in your eyes feels warmer than the Winter Sun

The touch of your thoughts is enough to rid our love of humdrum...

I was on my way to creating the gift of his choice. I was right - love never reaches saturation. It just reaches a point when your deeds speak those three magical words ‘I love you’.

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