Saturday, December 27, 2014

Poem: Mockery

He helped her to her home
                homed she felt in his company
Accompanied his pocket, a rose, a dream and a little comb
                combed, groomed, he was all set for flattery

Flattered was she by his boyish affection
                Affected was he by her imperfect spirit 
Spirited they were together, it was perfection
                Perfected to be each other’s true grit

But that evening was as blue as blue ink
                Inked on a paper, his words took a stand
Stood on a knee, he proposed; her eyes didn’t blink
                  Blinked to see a Red rose in his Right hand

Handed slyly, the epistle was crumpled in his pocket
                   Pocketed back was the truth, which tried to shock
Shocked but with no Ruth, yet she expressed fret
                   Fretted by her awe, he began his talk.

Talked like a jejune, he confessed his intent
                  Intended something else but he staged another act
                “That was just a gift,
                        which you always wish
                    To have an idyllic drift,  
                        like in poems so bookish
            That was all it was,
                        A moment from tomorrow
            Which you will pause,
                       With the one you’ll laugh and sorrow”  
Acted like she believed his false sketch 
                She Sketched back a cordial lock intact.


1 comment:

  1. I could really imagine him proposing to her down on his knees! Nice!