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.

-Ashish