In a white shirt and black bell-bottoms,
I'm waiting on the top of our rooftop apartment.
"I've been waiting all my life...", Ella's voice,
Soaring among the dim lights and fireflies.
The record keeps rolling on the gramophone.
October is over, the air has turned chilly,
It makes the dinning decor miss the candles.
But all your treats are ready,
From the spaghetti pasta that I've cooked
To the stud piercing on that corner of my lips.
Jazz is seldom my vibe, mostly all I know of it
Is taught by you and your dear gramophone.
But the open air Jazzy dinner is something
That we both have been wanting for so long....
I just realised that the song has changed now,
"Someday my happy arms will hold you,
And someday I'll know that moment...",
Ella keeps on singing and I can also hear
The stilleto foosteps from downstairs....
My dearest one, now are you here ?
12/11/2023
YOU ARE READING
Memories of Future
PoetryThe yearnings that are thought and rethought with such intensity for so many times, that those are not just desires anymore. Those are the moments that have already happened in the senses, and they can be considered 'Memories' now. But, those memori...
