Blooming Together
With bowed nimble eyelashes, my aquiline nose glistening hot in daze of your stare, my left hand fingers entwined with right ones, a soft prick of anxiety at their cusp, and a fluidity propelling ripples through my crumbling composure,
in ambivalent fervor squeezing the floor under my soles, your lips imagined puckering now and then, curved eyelids could hear crunch of your passionate blurb,
your masculine vocals emanated a voice as heavy as tearing sounds of new cotton fabric unwrapped; echoing in a valley of flowers mirrored in my irises,
among all this mayhem of unutterable sparks and intricate twinkle of dreamy prelude, a flush of emotions ignited two hearts and imbued minds to blossom in a scented eternity on the horizon,
butterflies of my eyelashes did flutter, as a balmy breeze soaked through an overflowing spring swelled onto us vivifying the wilted reflections,
aura of my silence tugged rosy blush of your sparkling eyes to melt sheer ice walls hindering splashes our spirits together were going to dive into.
In India, marriages are decided mostly by families, though things have been changed over the last decade. Thirty years back, when I got married, prenuptial meeting was the only chance for dating your partner for life.
In response to the Saturday prompt ‘first date stories’ by J.D. Harms in Scrittura.
Era Garg November 2021
