no complaints though

it's a little warm
no complaints though
the swing is at just the perfect pace
to and forth
and back again
a few squeaks, as it swings
no complaints though
you are reading me poetry
some french poet, i think
about how stars fall and
how galaxies rupture into clouds of dust
i am missing out some words
but no complaints though
it's time..you need tea
i know it, somehow
it's something you understand as you grow old together
you turn pages as i prepare tea
you slide your finger over the words
but then you stop
it's your wounds
the places from where your poetry flows
has never turned into scars
regardless of how much i wanted them to
you still bleed
but that's okay
you are not bleeding alone, nevertheless
i look out
at the fields,
the mountains,
the trees
and that queue of ants
struggling with that sugar cube
keeping your book and the cup aside
you wrap around me
and i think how poetic people can get
over the tiniest emotions and phenomenons
and here i am, holding you tight against my chest
uncertain if you are spring or winters
if butterflies tickle your soul or what
if you are blah blah or blah
and every metaphor that's used
but you sure are beautiful
i hope my heartbeats would have conveyed it to you
time and again
it's strange, you know
how i've kept my poems about you
safe in my chest
i think I'm screwed in your love
but it feels far better than being not so screwed
there a music that buzzes
i've to get up
it's reality that's alarming
it's time to erase the clouds
and kiss you goodbye
but no complaints though
you're here, always and Forever. - no complaints though // m. sandhu