Sweet heart, it is difficult to stay apart.

We both stuck to our word.

No calls during work-hours.

I am sorry to say to you,

even if you don’t call,

you are floating on my recall.

Why can’t we call?

I mean , you call?

I am stuck in your handsome face,

salt & pepper Sashi Tharoor like mane.

Sweet heart, thanks to you,

I went reading Upamanyu,

trying to see if I have some IAS glee.

I mean sensible something.

I am short on any of that.

All I can imagine is your occasional leisurely smoke,

which you light at, looking deep in my eyes,

“Hope, you don’t mind it sweet heart?”

And this word “sweet heart,”

what should I do now,

I run out anticipating your call,

All can call me,

except you “Sweet heart!”

I am caught up in your Hush Puppies,

Your Navy Summer Jacket,

Grey Trousers, “sweet heart”

This is night,

I am sleepless, ” sweet heart”.

When can I expect your call “sweet heart?”

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Published by: Sumita Jetley

I had never thought that writing takes such a heart in me. I never had thought that I and it would be in each other but suddenly I as well know, life is never without it be, expressed and relished in its foremost quiet beauty.

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