A poem for Soni

A late entry for Totally Optional Prompts' request for a 'romantic poem.' I have a romantic streak (perhaps it's only sentimental – someone who should know told me there was no romantic bone in me), but usually write about other people in any love stories I write. Well, this one is all about me myself I and hopefully not too embarrassing.

For Soni

A lightning bolt of pure joy struck
as our eyes and then hands met
that evening at the puja.

It made me wonder for a split second
whether both of us had tied hands
with the wrong ones –
you with your scowling bumbling boyfriend,
I with my pretty preening wife.

Now my wife has left for good,
and your boyfriend did finally get a job
in far-away Cologne.

The image of your radiant dark face,
set off so beautifully by your thick white sweater,
the feel of your small, courageous hand in mine
have been alive in my mind for months.

And yet I do not call.
Could one intense moment I felt
mean something?
Were you struck like me?

Heated imagination, I tell myself, hogwash.
And might never know for sure.

– Leonard Blumfeld