I could write a sonnet for her
That would wax lyrical
On how she smells like home.
I could write a sonnet for her
That would string stars in a line
To describe how her smile feels to me.
I could write a sonnet for her
On how our bodies move together
Fitting like a jigsaw puzzle.
I could write a sonnet for her
And how she comes to me
On the wisps of a breeze
Between waking and sleeping
When the world is in chaos
Or I scream that I need her
And there she is, with a needle and thread
Stitching a tapestry of her dreams.
Then I’m no longer just thinking
Of writing a sonnet for her.
Because her dreams charge me
To bring it to life,
Give meaning, colour and sparkle
To the mysterious, the unformed and the unimagined.
This duty is solemn and sacred
And I must abide by its rules
For without the music of her dreams
This sonnet will never exist.
Thus, this sonnet I have written for her.
Who do you think her is? Mom and I have our interpretations but I’d love to know yours.
This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon.
tales of Suchita 
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