Birthday

Today, it was her birthday. I have been thinking hard for the past few days about what to give her but nothing looked apt for her. I wanted to give her something personal to make her day special and to remember me, always. When we had first met, she was carrying a book of poems by William Wordsworth I happen to remember seeing it in her jute bag. The subconscious is absolutely amazing. It functions in such an exceptional manner that you are always astonished of its power. So, I decided to write her a poem even though I very well knew how much I suck at it. I spent two hours, getting cursed by, god knows, how many trees which were cut to produce the paper I was wasting and still there was nothing worthwhile. And then the power went off. But something lit up in my head and I wrote these lines in that darkness:

Like the sun rays of the dawn
You bring life to my spirit.
Like a new born child’s yawn
You innocent smile makes my eyes lit.
Like an iron piece to a magnet, I am drawn
towards your honest soul, without any guilt.
I Love You, Tamanna
And I give you myself as your birthday gift.

We met at our usual coffee shop at 4. She was wearing a white cotton kurta with a green colored dupatta. Her hair was open resting on her left shoulder. Her nose ring was glittering when the sun rays fell on it. Her face was radiant as always but today, I could see slight redness in her cheeks. It was almost two hours already, we had three cups of coffee but still I couldn’t tell her that I loved her. I wanted to tell her so much, the torment of feelings she has aroused in me since our first meet three months back. I wanted to hold her hand, wanted to kiss her, wanted to say a very silent “happy birthday” almost kissing her ears… But I couldn’t. While parting, I gave her a Wordsworth poetry book. My poem stays in this diary with me!

P.S.: Inspired from Ritwik's blog.