I have found you in yellow mornings like these-

Yellow mornings of poached egg Sundays when-
I poke into the oozing gold of happiness on my plate and begin the day with a rather pigeon-hearted presence because-
On days like these I feel the embers of the flaming passion inside me and-
I try and cool it down with lemon sodas from the-
Tiny shop right across the street where I-
Am sent to buy mustard powder for chicken curry and I-
Occasionally, peep through the sunbeams of a very hot day in June as-
You come out for butter scotch ice cream-
At that moment-
I look away-
You look around and maybe remember that I was there yesterday morning-
At that moment-
I forget about the mustard and the chicken curry-
You forget to pay the ice cream man-
He bows down to pick up his worn tawny chappal-
You run inside-
I giggle-
At that moment-
In Delhi-
I try to remember the colour of your shirt on my way back home-
Was there a shirt? Or was it a long stretch of sun-kissed skin? Never mind-
Now that I am reliving that story I get to choose-
The happy ending where we were all yellow-
And content in these little things-
Ice-creams, sodas and the sun glinting in our eyes.