About a boy

Here I am, in a dry month,
reading about a young boy, waiting for rain,
and wondering what went wrong.
Summer wasn’t supposed to be so hot,
nor last this long.

In the book, the boy finishes his journey,
makes love to a woman.
I watch my little jacaranda bloom
and remember journeys – didn’t you tell me that
purple would always remind you of me?
But it is only I who remember now
in this endless summer.
Summer wasn’t supposed to be so hot,
nor last this long.

Here I am, remembering when forgetting would be better
watching the heat rise in waves on tarred roads.
The trees are bare like our conversations in the end.
But what happened? What went wrong?
In this sterile heat, how can babies be born?
Perhaps you were right.
Why get married if we can’t have children?

Sweat slowly drips down my cleavage.
(She covered it for me – our friend – my cleavage from disinterested eyes and they all laughed.
‘Show instead the nice pattern of the clothes’- she said. And they all laughed again. Disinterested.)
In this heat, everything hurts.
Summer wasn’t supposed to be so hot,
nor last this long.

The boy is irreverent just like I used to be.
Remember that?
But the sun, it makes me religious now
Sometimes even fanatic.
Why is this summer so long?
Where is the comfort of your cold voice?
Where is the spooning and falling asleep of winter?
Summer wasn’t supposed to be so hot,
nor last this long.

Here I am, watching a jacaranda bloom,
waiting for rain and marveling at the purple blossoms
Does the jacaranda not feel the heat?
Or the abject aridity of this season that has lasted so long?
Here I am reading about a boy
Who is now a man.
Things change for the better everywhere except in this life.
Summer wasn’t supposed to be so hot,
nor last this long.


About Bhumika's Boudoir

I love to laugh, and end up being a part of high drama and stormy emotion even when I don't pursue it. Being creative, and communicating with people get me going. I enjoy all the good things in life especially those that are slightly risque, and apologise little, if ever, for all that I do. Literature is a passion and so is music.
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7 Responses to About a boy

  1. Aman says:

    very nice, I smell talent here, dear ๐Ÿ™‚


  2. Aman says:

    This one goes very well. It has depth, substance, and expresses a lot more than is visible. Very, very good ๐Ÿ™‚


  3. High praise! Thank you, kind Sir. I quite like this one too. ๐Ÿ™‚


  4. Marvin Grey says:

    I was about to write a dumb comment like "poems again?". But that was before I read it and read it again. Its very nice.


  5. MG, that makes me feel damn good. Coming from you, that's extraordinary praise. Thank you. ๐Ÿ™‚ I'm so glad.


  6. Eveline says:

    Wow! This post made me teary. Feels familiar. Only in the past few months have I started to even learn how to reclaim those bits and take care of myself. Remember Who You Wanted To Become or How You Wanted To Feel. And BTW, you are one beautiful and talented woman!


  7. Eveline, thank you. And that's straight from one gorgeous woman to another. Hugs, darling. I'm glad you found such a great hobby and that you are so good at it.


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