Poetry

Louis Vest photo

By

Chetna Joshi Bambroo

Longing for Love

It may be unromantic

But the place of my worship, my love, my fantasies, my freedom, my lust, my being is centred in a small room

It is like a box that sees me naked

How ironical it is!

I have you, but the walls know me better

They listen to my little sobs

No one comes to pat me to happiness

Yes, they see it all

Only this little room in the city of hearts

Know how much I long for you

I am nailing my words each day behind these walls

They throb for a while and then they die

I want to ask you one day,

Can we put end to this misery?

Can we break the walls?

Can we let the words free?

Can, we again be like the lovers, we once used to be?

Chetna Joshi Bambroo

I am a freelance journalist, and have worked with national newspaper, Hindustan Times, New Delhi, India for three years and have also worked with children’s publishing houses.