I hear the leaves rustle in the breeze The gust picks up slowly, gradually I hear the rattle of a window The one that lies loosely in its frame Like a watchful sentry Announcing the entry Of a wayward breeze That rolls in through its screen To knock upon the door At the end of the corridor
I walk out of my bedroom into the lounge The sentinel window Is now trembling, recoiling Rattling its pane Warning of rain That will soon moisten Its face; gushing, Rushing, tearing The dust off old memories - Renewing the pain
I see the first flash of lightning and then The thunder breaks The storm has arrived I look at it through the window Now lying quietly in its frame Soon the glisten of its pane Swells into a stream flowing Down silently, as I sit quietly With the sweet ache Of old memories again
I’m sitting today at a new cafe They bring me my tea in a beautiful cup And a saucer to match. I catch My breath. It reminds me so much Of the tea set so loved And cared for by your beautiful hands. Of the cups of tea that were sipped In your company, by smiling lips Listening to a conversation Laughing at a joke And your own tinkling laugh I remember it. I choke.
I remember so many late afternoons Like the one that just pierced my heart So many memories, tender and raw Memories that flood in and then depart Replaced by others, thronging along … Like the one of you putting an earring on My ear where the flesh always fused Making it an adventure, a laugh a ruse. Or when you bit into an elephant’s ear The pastry, the confection, the palmier! The chemo still filling your vital veins Dripping its disease numbing potion within You still grinned; your face came alight You kept all the simple joys alive. And then I’m assailed by another memory Of another cafe where you and I had tea, You sipped it slowly with your eyes closed Your beautiful face in gentle repose You smiled and I heard a contented sigh And that smile from your lips reached your twinkling eyes …
Today, I’m sitting at a new cafe But in my mind I’m with you on all those precious days.
The Roaming Desi 