Those soft white petals
With yellow sheen in them
—ah! Those are my favourite, Frangipani.
Oh, and I have noticed how you lock your gaze on me
While I traipse bare feet on grass
Can you see those tiny little twigs sticking around my toes, dews from grass shining on my feet...
I know, why my breathing picked up a pace
It’s because I can feel the burn of your gaze on me, devouring my senses
I could feel you moving around
—To stand and pick that Frangipani lying under the tree
As I turn to face you, you push that errant lock of hair behind my ear
And thread in it the white bloom
All the while I’m looking at you wondering
Would you ever be telling me —you love me
Or I may just have to wait whole my life to listen to those words falling from your lips.
Or may be we will have more nights, more moments like this.
More Frangipanis to adorn my hair. One for each night laden with love confessions unuttered.