Simple joys
I go near you and the skin in your arm
Just an inch away is too warm for me
I get hot; you do not know it.
We talk and talk
I am giving instructions on some words
For you to transcribe
You look at your notes as you scribble
Your pen busily
I am looking at your hair so black so
Silky and must be so soft to touch
I get hot; you do not know it.
Then I stop talking and you look at me
Again saying, is there anything more sir?
I look at you & you look at me
It was enough mutuality that I seek
Just a simple short gaze
From you this morning
A meter apart
I get hot; you do not know
All these simple joys you are giving me
We are already bound
To our respective chains
We are inside our
Respective prisons
I always get hot seeing you
Near you but it is better this way
And you will never know about me
I get hot always alone
It is you always in my imagination.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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