Like an empire
Build of cards
Clubs, diamonds, spades and hearts
Placed meticulously
One above another
Each supporting other
Are her words-
Each, sounding just right
Like an epitome
Of the classic novel
You read by the fireplace
Feeling the fuzziness
With a tinge of melancholy
Not a bit I know
What she is built of
Except that
Her mind is
Carefully carved by the hands of
The Infinity
Her intricacy will
Leave you astounded
-A strain of snappiness
With a drop or two
Of kindness.
A marmalade stare
Sweet, but not too much
Leaves a sour taste
In your mind
That’s all I know
Of her and her words
And her stare
And that’s how far
I want to go
Nothing more, nothing less
Because, they say
People in love with literature
Are already in too deep
And I’m afraid of depths.