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?”