Friday 12 February 2016

Her Morning Kiss

Every morning;
She smiles at me, embraces me,
And pours her love.
I feel her kiss, the wetness of her lips,
She holds me close,
She holds me tight
Leaving her mark on me.

I hear her all day, sitting alongside;
Confessing her love;
For coffee, books and travel,
For friends, wine and chocolates,
And…her love for him
That twinkle in her eyes,
That vivacious smile 
Even at the trifling thought of him,
Says it all.
A little heartache tweaks;
Deep within me,
Leaves me pondering
Does she love me or does she not?
Aha! How can she not?
When;
I am the one she starts her day with.
Encircled with stress,
I am the one she would always miss
I am… Her morning kiss.
I am... Her coffee mug.

My Coffee Mug


Share your thoughts with me at dipanwiita@gmail.com

20 comments:

  1. awww... lovely :-) xx

    Cheers, Archana - www.travelwitharchie.com

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    1. Thank you Archie. Glad you liked it.

      Yet to travel with you. Virtually though, but that wd be soon enough. :)

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  2. aw...i was wondering of strange possibilities till i came to the last line...hmmm i'll look at my coffee mug in a different way from now on :D

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    1. Yes indeed you should. I was trying to do so while writing this poem. :D

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  3. How lovely! Like your style, Dipanwita :)

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  4. Perhaps, we all love 'him' ...the very first morning love... :-D Great one, dear... :-)

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  5. I loved the twist in the end. Beautifully weaved, dear :)

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  6. Aha! Coffee Mug is a good subject :)
    Nicely expressed! Happy V'Day!

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  7. Nice one ..
    ... be a bit uneasy of the destiny that often plants a slip between the mug and the kiss

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  8. lovely - the cup (whether tea or coffee) knows the lips well and (like a friend) I think enjoys the time being embraced against the cold.

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    1. Sure it does Leslie. :)

      Thank you for your visit. Glad you liked it.

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  9. One of the best I have read, such awesome feelings!

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