Thursday, April 17, 2014

Love & Luck


I believe in the haphazard.
No, I haven’t surrendered
To that, but I do believe.

Take life, that drag
Through muck of tedium,
A rare jig, if one’s lucky.

I met her at a party
With too many guests,
She sat alone at a table.

I too sat alone (that’s not new,
So I did not think of luck)
Not at her table, but I got there.

You can guess the rest.
Movies, music, war and love  
We talked, from nine to three.

I took her to her place
And left with the promise
To have breakfast together,

The next Sunday, at the café
Near the church, where lovers meet
For sin, I mean, for appam and stew.

She knew what I meant
And brought a chaperon,
It was a tight fit at the table for two.

A quiet smiling character;
With no talk of movies, music, war
Or love, from nine to three;

We shared appam and stew (the other had something).
She made me aware of blue balls and red roses.
A tight fit it was, of lust, love & luck.


1 comment :

  1. Hi..

    Poetry and fun.. Tough combination... And I would say.. Even one could feel a tinch of sadness.. It was funny..
    So this companion of hers.. Was a male or female..

    Thanks.

    ReplyDelete