It is a beautiful morning

the way gentle sunrays sleepily peep in

through the window to finally settle

on the vase with a single white rose

which is on the verge of disintegration,

is so pulchritudinous, that it makes me want to cry

I furiously blink away the dampness

as we sit across each other sipping morning tea

the only sound one can hear

is the clattering of teacups on the plates

the veritable silence before the storm

there’s a raspy itch in my chest just where my heart is

and rowdy, vituperous thoughts clamour my mind

I am ready to confront him

he looks up from the newspaper and smiles beatifically

and the moment passes.

58 thoughts on “Deferred

      1. forehand shot πŸ™‚ the word stands out, maybe because of its length, or because of its obscurity? The writing is nice, as always.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. You described this moment… the clattering of teacups, the rose, the emotion, with such incredible clarity and vividity. No storm in a teacup, the feeling this describes is powerful. Truly incredible writing Punam, and, that word!!! ❀️❀️

    Liked by 1 person

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