the joker's ink for the queen

Time stopped, yet my heart raced yesterday.

Under those little lights and the cloudless moonlit sky.

A smile of excitement and a shiver of jollity ran through my spine,

As I rode alongside my friend to a place which I call the New Abode of mine.

 

Me driving, her sitting behind, was subtly stated as chauvinistic by her.

And in front of her jitters of laughter, my arguments had to surrender.

Her profound eyes, impeccable zeal, and kind heart are what I adore,

To the ocean of words of mine, her eyes are the most devoured shore.

 

She doesn’t read any, especially of mine, until asked for,

But this perfidy is something for which I will dearly implore.

Numerous drops of ink of mine have been for her,

For unknown yet beautiful reasons, my stringent pen lets this larceny occur.

 

A glimpse of her eyes pulls the right chords in me,

After that, via my pen, these wonderous thoughts flee.

As a writer, I devour perspectives and muse,

Dear comrade, she’s the one who many a time pulls me out of my blues.

 

In her eyes, I have seen the deepest of oceans and highest of mountains,

And once for sure, she will see what sees my heart and brain.

The cursor on the screen might wonder what it types,

I reply, “A wildflower that withstood the storm which now undoubtedly retires.”

 

“If people were rain, then I am drizzle and you are hurricane”, wrote Mr. Green,

A line that splendidly outlines you, my glorious queen.

Let it be the gleaming yellow of the Sun or the opiate purple shades of the evenings,

That entices my pen in this fascinating job of inking down these ineffable feelings.

 

 

Let me tell you one little secret of her that even she might not know,

“She has so fondly loved stars, that the night doesn’t seem dreary to her anymore.”

She’s an ever-enticing chaos and splendid beauty intertwined,

A bouquet of roses, tulips, and sunflowers from the gardens of the divine.

 

With every page of time and friendship that we turn,

And every jitter or a tear that we share,

We furnish memories and top up our “Evocative Urn”,

Catching our beats and prancing to them here and there.

 

There’s a different beauty in being friends with her,

Your nights are filled with endless chatter and bright screens,

Until your eyelids grow heavy and you say sweet dreams.

As the sun soothes you awake, your phone buzzes, “Good Morning Mr., Lames”.

 

She is a paradox. She is dreamy yet committed,

She loves everyone yet is not attached to anyone,

She a sociable for many, but my eyes have seen her as a loner,

She is a conflicted contradiction, a wondrous rose with arresting thorns.

 

In short, she is predictable in her unpredictability.

A storm that has spurred multitudes of waves in the ocean of my thoughts.  

Ripples in the ponds of my words

And when I folded you saw the best in me,

Just like the joker and the queen.