That’s when the heartbeats race
That’s when a blush warms your cheeks
That’s when shivers flow down your back
That’s when your fingers tremble
.
You swallow and swallow hard
You close your eyes
Your heart comes to a standstill
Your soul sings a song to music unwritten
.
It’s the anticipation
It’s the breaths that you share
It’s the gentle fluttering of your eyes
It’s the best part of your first kiss
Late afternoons often found her sitting alone, still and straight. Her mind would travel years back in time, when the house was full of children’s laughs and echoing footfalls. In a flash, hours and days had molded into long years of cooking dinners, attending PTA meetings and finishing yet another load of laundry.
Now the house sat quiet, reminiscing of a din long gone. The children had moved out and her husband was indulging yet another hobby. One evening, a sliver of sunshine happened to escape the curtain’s stern guard. Through the dance of dust mites, she happened upon her reflection. Her eyes and her face told stories of the years gone by and the errands they had seen through.
There were no stories of her own. There was not even a hint of the flame that once shone bright in her eyes; it was extinguished long ago.
A muted glint from a hidden corner caught her attention – somehow her old ghungru* had managed to dapple in the last light of the setting sun. It had been so long she had seen them – she had almost forgotten how they felt tied at her ankles. With trembling fingers she handled them delicately, more precious than any gem in the world.
What if….? Dare she even dream…?
The next afternoon saw her tentatively clearing a space and dusting out her old dancing clothes. As her feet slowly became accustomed to the once-familiar weight of her ghungru, the years melted away and she fell into a rhythm that was as natural as breathing. On days when she was not at dance school, the curtains were firmly drawn back as she conducted personal concerts under the sunny spotlight.
She was not a daughter, a wife or a mother then. She was a dancer. She was an artist. She was her chosen form. She was blowing at the cool embers, re-kindling a fire that had almost blown out. It was never too late to spark it back!
Written for Sue’s prompt – Flame. I took it as a metaphor and ran away with it! Hope that is okay…
*Ghungru: is one of many small metallic bells strung together to form Ghungrus, a musical anklet tied to the feet of classical Indian dancers.
We started on different paths and diverse ambitions,
Truly determined to stick to our grand plans,
Feet held tight on the ground.
.
We initiated that tentative but irresistible meeting,
Bound together with forbidden undercurrents,
Colliding as destiny played poker.
.
We were a fusion of a sunny day and a stormy night
Attracted like two opposite poles of a magnet,
Undeniably lost in our cosmos.
.
We kept fueling the explosive fire scorching our souls,
Gasping for breath in the dense combustion,
Insane in our abandoned triumph.
.
We saw the mystifying rightness of our coming,
Shocked by the beauty of our chemistry,
Complete in the harmony of souls.
.
We still refuse to agree on the smallest of matters,
Effortlessly of the same mind on the big ones,
Weaving a tapestry for our future.
.
We overcame a flurry of confusions and misgivings,
Seeking courage to embark on an adventure,
Discovering it within each other.
.
We now dance to the greatest songs of love and life,
Your smooth moves guiding my two left feet,
Holding tight for infinity and beyond.
Well…. I like life 🙂 How did you meet your “significant other”? What’s your story?
With the first notes of the sultry music,
She devoured the sparkling wine.
The clock struck the hour of midnight,
Ringing in her moments to shine.
.
Mysterious starlight twinkling in her eyes
Paired the alluring sway of her silken hips,
No glimmer of hope remained for him,
Captivated in the curl of her ruby lips.
.
The tapered arch of her back beckoned
A subtle invitation in the candlelight,
Her hair flowing like a stormy waterfall,
She lost herself into the explosive night.
.
His hands spanned her curving waist
Locking themselves into a fiery embrace,
Eyes and heartbeats glazed impassioned,
They whirled towards a timeless space.
When some nights are hazy yet clear 🙂 Open Link Night at dVerse is great to reminisce about this night! 🙂
Our eyes found each other in the bustling crowd.
They met. They held. They connected.
A spark glittered out of nowhere.
A flicker of anticipation.
A magnetic energy.
An awareness like no other.
The moment passed in a blink,
So did a few months and a few weeks.
The memory vaporized.
Destiny played her mischievous hand, her chortling gleeful.
An unexpected meeting.
A foreseen rekindling.
The spark awoke in full glory.
Peals of laughter,
Stolen glances,
Deliberate brush of our hands,
Whisper of your lips on my fingers.
Brewed and crackled an electrifying chemistry.
We defied gravity and soared up the stars,
We were spiraling and reaching towards something,
We were getting there,
It was close enough to touch.
But Destiny was not done, her sleeves full of tricks.
She threw the dice again.
A strange drift came swinging right and left.
Something turned into Nothing.
We fit like a dream, but were pieces of different jigsaw puzzles.
You did not complete my portrait.
Your reflection discolored with my presence.
Amidst smiles and niceties, we bade goodbye.
We let go.
We never looked back.
We stayed unnamed, and dissolved into oblivion.
But for the delicate string joining us.
But for the spark refusing to die out.
But for that lingering awareness.
But for Destiny who is not yet done.
This poem was inspired by a prompt “Aware” at mindlovemisery’s menagerie and a lost (possibly forbidden) memory. How often do we experience these unexplained chance meetings that feel like a reunion of old souls? When a stranger simply isn’t one!
An Armchair Perfectionist 