Tuesday, February 12, 2008

One: Of Crisp White Sheets. And Wine.



Old movies do that to you
In all of their black and white glory
They couldn't tell a grey'er story
Or invoke a more multi-color dream
Dream, not an event real
Separation, necessary
Many a (mis)consequence averted
And in those monochromatic, multi-reel
Grey tinted frames, snowy films
Lie the true romances
Of wine tinted afternoons
And legs entangled in crisp white sheets
Reality stays rolling credits away
And until then, the critics at bay
Wine is full-bodied, afternoons passionate
The sheets crisp
White, subjective.

5 comments:

neha vish said...

White crisp sheets! Reading this, it somehow reminds me of crashing into a hotel room rather late - and sinking into the bed. Hotel linen is just so much more white and crisp. (I know that is not the point of this lovely poem - but it just is evoking too many things in one go!)

P said...

Funny, but that was going to be part deux...

Anonymous said...

lovely.

Romeo Morningwood said...

Love this afternoon delight but I can't help thinking that I'll need to keep the Club Soda nearby...

Red Wine and White Sheets presents a beautiful juxtaposition but this combination is also a recipe for disaster.

Cynic in Wonderland said...

..and makes one feel suddenly very sleepy after reading it!