A beautiful Sunday's penning

A meeting of minds,

A huddle of hearts,

An introduction of ideas,

A tryst of thoughts.

We met one evening ...

A beautiful Sunday’s penning.

We discoursed, we discussed

And we talked much.

Avoiding seeing each other in the eye.

And yet it was those that didn’t lie.

We met yet another evening ...

A beautiful Sunday’s penning.  

He spoke of his love, his passion.

I spoke of emotions and their transgression.

He weaved a wonderful web of lusty lies.

And that is when I looked him deeper in his eyes.

We met yet another evening ...

A beautiful Sunday’s penning.

His eyes were like two pools so deep ...

It took me all my might not to fall in them so steep.

They were like two magnets that pulled me closer.

I resisted. I repelled. I tried much harder.

We met yet another evening ...

A beautiful Sunday’s penning.

He asked me “Why do you love them so much?”

I said, “They never lie to me as such.

For all the tall tales that your tongue tells to be

Your eyes are the ones that are faithful to me”.

We met yet another evening ...

A beautiful Sunday’s penning.

Yet one dusty day  I confronted him without deviation

And told him I knew of fact from fiction.

He laughed it off and said “silly things!”

I laughed as I knew for sure it wouldn’t be funny for him

If I were ever to say those “silly things”.

We met yet another evening ...

A beautiful Sunday’s penning.

Bless his deep dark eyes

For they knew not how to tell lies.

We met yet another evening ...

A beautiful Sunday’s penning.