Saturday, 31 December 2011

EVERY EVENING, HE SPENT WITH HER.................









It was evening, & he sat, waiting, eagerly, for her
He knew she’d be there soon, any moment
And until she arrived, just thinking about her
Always left him quite happy and content

He didn’t have to wait for too long  
Suddenly he knew, she was there
No, he didn’t hear any footsteps
But, it was her fragrance in the air

When she was before him, just one look at her
And his eyes turned a bit dreamy
Her presence was so enchanting
Her colour so light & creamy

He knew the moment she’d touch his lips
She would lift all his drooping spirits high
She always had this effect on him
He never, understood the reason, why

Lost in her fragrance he lifted her,
And when she touched his lips
He felt the thrill she always gave him
He could feel it, right down to his finger tips
  
Yes this was the only way, he would always
Want his evenings to be spent
After a long weary day, to him, that’s how much
A cup of hot, creamy coffee, meant








5 comments:

  1. Whooo! I've become all dreamy too...craving for my cup of coffee too which only 'ma makes the best.You're going to have it without me tonight, huh? :(

    Well, loved the choice of words and looks like there are a lot of beauties that you're writing about-'ma, the moon, the earth, sycamore tree, the new year,(me?)...wow! talk about finding inspiration in everything! Loved how you wrote this out too...could picture it too and feel the man's impatience and eagerness to get just one taste, one sip...mmm yum! I am really missing hope now!:(
    Keep writing, Dad...can't wait to see who or what your next inspiration will be ;)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Wish I were that cup of coffee??? So lovingly and longingly written. Yes, ‎you did fool a lot of people but not me any more . I guessed immediately ‎but well I must confess, I thought you are wring about a cup of tea. Well, ‎for a few seconds there, I allowed myself to feel grand that you were ‎waiting eagerly in the evening for me to come to you. Oh, what a blow to ‎my pride. But , still, the beauty( coffee , in this post) has to be brought by me ‎only na?? So indirectly or directly you were waiting for this beauty too(Me ‎‎???). ‎

    Well, I wouldn’t have guessed it but I can pat my back on being very ‎intelligent now a days and for guessing almost right. It is a great pleasure ‎reading your posts. They are so nice and leaves a nice, good , happy feeling ‎with me. It is lovely. Keep blogging(No matter how much I crib about you ‎sitting always in front of computer,). I love your posts. Keep writing. ‎
    Sue

    ReplyDelete
  3. Grrrr! For a change I thought I'd solved the mystery before reaching the last few lines, but alas! I was so sure that she was a glass of Portuguese wine, but alas :(
    After having so much of machine coffee these days, I've kind of lost my love for the real coffee! But the way you've described it makes me crave for mom-made coffee right this very instant! Oh well... until next time...
    Good post again, dada! I assure you I'll hit bulls eye when unraveling the mystery posed by your next one :p

    ReplyDelete
  4. Extremely interesting:-)!! Romancing with coffee...it's really worth it! After a long tiring day, a cup of creamy coffee is like a heaven in a cup!!! Even the sweet-strong aroma takes away the tiredness of the whole day and energizes the body and the refreshens the mind....your post is like a tribute to a cup of coffee, a really deserving one:-):-):-)

    ReplyDelete
  5. Wow.. I hardly drink coffee or tea but this one got me craving for one creamy cup of coffee in a huge mug.. I so love the fragrance of coffee powder by the way ( Yeah, its pretty strange that I do drink Coffee much but whenever I do, its mainly because of the fragrance of coffee :))

    I totally couldn't guess it all till the very end. Suspense well maintained in your lovely descriptions.. !! You have such a lovely way of expressing various things as lovely women who the reader has to meet :P

    Great writing again ! Love you D

    ReplyDelete