Down the Memory Lane

A poem by Aman Srivastava - MBA'22, FMS Delhi

You stood at the bus-stop forlorn

It had mizzled all day, relentless

Just gazing down like a unicorn

In a dampened, argentine dress

Eyes infantile, glanced for a while

I mumbled, O! What a merry sight

With arms docile, you wiped your face

The face that oozed with light

Here a trench and there a hill

And here and there a puddle

Wind hostile, a numbing chill

Arms wrapped, but none to cuddle

The clouds stood tall, what hour ‘twas

If only the prophets could tell

The watches all soaked, and dead alas!

And none to have rung the bell

You turned to me, with an awry smile

For you yearned to know the hour

Then a car drove in, a splatter it made

My face hence draped in tar

Adrift with musings of embarrassment

I swung my skull to the earth

Then you stepped up, with a milky cloth

And the chagrin seemed of worth

Some poise in me, I mustered back

For you conversed sublime

Some poise in you to be poised at all

At such a terrible time

We wittered and nattered the trivialities

Neglecting the ominous rain

This morrow, our wedding vows I take

Brooding down the memory lane