"You! You there, pray look".
Averting myself from mundane pairs,
Setting inner feelings upon her,
Yet flicking routine responses.
My field courts her black beads.
They breifly shine towards me,
"Yes?!Don't think, I don't feel yours".
But she forces their focus away,
Down, gazing at her food, musing
Am certain, about my gaze.
The daily coincidence at lunch-time.
Of sitting positions and overlapping fields.
Inspires a quasi-habitual hope
Will she let the dialogue wax?
Her reluctance speaks for her.
That sparky pair almost succeeds,
In keeping her at bay.
Yet the furtive assertion they convey,
Propels my quixotic longing,
To be with her.
She climbed in the bus,
All four of us played the usual.
Before we could pose anew
Hers turned to the book,
And a friendly pair hijacked mine.
The uncertainties my curiosities began,
She was desparate to ward off.
What the lovely pair failed at,
Her kiss to an ally, hurriedly demanded,
Made home, but just, exposing insecurities.
Dadhichi
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