That frown between your eyes,

‘I am vulnerable to you alone,

You hurt me with those jibes.’

Those were indeed the wrong vibes,

All I meant was….

Forget it, never means anything really.

Coz I remember it barely.

Love is the crease in your shirt,

Which I dampen to straighten,

Set you off – it’s another work day.

Love is, when you hold my hand,

My eyes swollen and teary,

I cry out, that hurt.

You say nothing, pressing me against you,

My hand is all yours, forgiven.

Love is, morning for two,

Philo on our verandah, spouting depths

From within teacups,

Stillness notwithstanding,

Gliding from one topic to another,

Till it’s my time to pack a lunchbox,

Yours to shower.

Love is our routine- a good day,

Sun through the rains,

Spring blossoms or dry days,

Mood swings from harsh to kind,

But love remains to sustain,

An ode to Man, coz Love just is.