You and I
Two buds of the first flush,
tender and trembling,
in the fervour of morning mist,
brushing each other
in the embrace of a gentle breeze,
our staunch mirth
drifting away in the wind
the redolence of earth and desire.
You and I
savouring the odour of tea,
soaking in silence
our roots entangled.
no hands have reached us
no baskets, no blades.
We remain buds untouched ,
first flush before the first pluck.
You and I
will be gathered too
pressed, dried and brewed.
For now,
we are green and wild
unbruised and unbrewed.
***
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you have a poem you’d like to submit, do email us at [email protected].
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