A Job Half Done

Their first conversation had few words,
But seasoned it was with measured laughter.
They agreed the tea was good, and the weather pleasant,
And decided to meet the weekend after.

He worked his beard a tad carefully that morning,
And bought her a chocolate on the way.
The laughter was louder, the exchanges friendlier,
They both chimed it had been a lovely day.

He loved her big eyes, and the twinkle in them,
She giggled at his occasional flirt.
Their phones had little time to breathe,
Of things to share, there was never any dearth.

With relentless passion, he went about his days,
She confessed she really liked that too.
He talked ardently of music, but little did she know,
His affections were clinging to a subject new.

Months passed, and their lives went by,
Frequent, they remained, their meetings.
He listened to her, and searched for hints,
But, well, one is never sure of these things.

His patience gave way, and on a casual walk,
He bravely laid bare his aching heart.
All the feelings lay strewn, awash with dismay,
For Cupid had played but half his part.

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Ishan Mahajan

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Works for money.. err.. challenges. Writes for the heart. Plays music for the soul. Rhymes to look smart.
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