Friday, November 1, 2013

...They call it first love

Fluttering hearts,
Fifteen years old or so
Late night phone calls back in the day
Exorbitant phone bills. BSNL landline.
Sleep deprived mornings
First love they call it.

Holding hands, twirling fingers
Bunking college, scorching afternoons.
Sharing a single chicken egg roll.
Sneaking into empty rooms,
Parents being away.

Walks down empty stretches,
No money for cabs
Second-hand books for birthday gifts
With a letter tucked in
Written on tissue paper perhaps.

Keeping the ‘affair’ all under wraps
It has to be clandestine for sure.
When Romeo and Juliet are not just tales
They call it first love you know.

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