The sharp summer heat fades;
The loo feels like an exotic ocean breeze.
His aching muscles and her painful traumas slowly wane away through the exchange of timid smiles.
He stares at her with much more fascination than he stares from a distance at a television screen.
She pushes strands of her dry vermillion, unwashed hair away from her eyes as he gawks and wonders how true and beautiful she looks unlike those women with silky hair whom he serves food and tea; who wear less clothes and throw more than they eat.
She cannot see well and today he is at a distance. She still tries to catch a glimpse of his face howsoever without getting caught. Maybe she needs a pair of spectacles but not to see him, after all he is her spectacle. Maybe she can’t afford those spectacles for now but she can afford to fall in love.
He asked his educated friend to write him a love letter; his friend was still looking for a job so he agreed to do it for a minimal fee. He dictated his feelings and his friend complimented it with whatever little vocabulary he had!
Amidst nervousness and fear he gave her the letter and like a coward he ran away.
She was just as uneducated as him apparently but not her younger brother. Her family made a choice, men do need education in today’s world so yes today’s world is at fault.
Her younger brother was as nice to her as his parents were to him. So, he read it out to her in a whisper and the entire night she couldn’t sleep.
He waited impatiently staring at the street over and over again the next day. When he would catch her sight; a rush of elation through his mind would always ignite.
And there she was walking with a subtle smile; today she was sure to talk to him since expressions and stares had went on for too ling; she was up in rile!
He felt this instinct too; he knew today was the day, so he walked straight towards her whatever happen may!
They faced each other but couldn’t talk; not a word would spill out, only their eyes would lock.
He wasn’t sure of what to say as mostly his conversation starts with asking “What’s your order today?” and for her; she was always trained to shut up so her voice is weak enough for anyone to ignore her away.
But; eventually they smiled in rebellion.
He asked her if she would want to meet him at the temple the next day; as for free, together below the oak they could lay, and maybe even pray!
She promised to come and wait for him in the evening. They then had to part away since for him customers await as they have orders to make and she too have buckets of water to fill and take.
He felt an unpredictable joy and she too couldn’t hold her grin.
But alas! Reality is a ghost; so grim.
He received a letter that night which turned his aspirations of love into void. His father had passed away; so he caught the first bus in the dawn to become the farmer his father was. He would weep as silently as the rustle of the leaves in the night. When his mother would ask; he would say he cries for his dead father but of course he cries for her.
Eventually her face he shall forget and a fond memory of something eternally beautiful for him she shall become.
For her; well she would cry too but she has a lot to cry about anyway. Often his thoughts would haunt her, often she looks for his face in places full of crowd.
Maybe he would send his son somewhere someday to take orders and serve tea. Maybe he would meet a girl and in love he too shall be.
It lasts for a time so brief yet for the rest of their life they romanticize grief.
Love has its definitions and for the poor;
“The sharp summer heat fades; The loo feels like an exotic ocean breeze. His aching muscles and her painful traumas slowly wane away through the exchange of timid smiles;”
Look who's writing!
The amazing poet who has got bullets in his pen; bullets not to kill his readers but are enough to hit deep to the core of the heart.
Also, liked the way you rhymed. Infact, I feel, you don't even have to think to rhyme your words because the spontaneity with which your emotions flow seems like they are the effortless rhymes.
Just that, I feel, if it's a poem that you wish to put your feelings in, the lines could have been shorter so that it is easy, reading. Or else, the same lines would sound much better in a story format.
Keep it up! You always nail it.