Love smells like Mogras

“Mogras” kollam by author (using rice flour)

As the train rushed through the tunnels,
With the pouring rain against the windows,
The crowd gathered and dispersed,
But the lovers sat together in a corner.

Eyes that never darted,
Knees that never parted,
Engrossed in the sweet, comforting
And intoxicating smell of mogras,
Their world revolved different.

With open palms that begged to be caressed,
Unspoken words that longed to be heard,
Tears welled up in the corner of their eyes,
Pain of the moment lingered in the gaze of the lovers.

And then, the train stopped.
As the rain gushed through the windows,
A long embrace held a minute longer
And lips barred of the sweet kisses,
Time stood still as the lovers departed.
Another love story in this fleeting journey.

A beautiful poem by Manasi Diwakar on mogras here and I loved how she related the pureness of love with the flower.