LOVE ON A WINTER’S DAY

It is chilly cold.
Like a typical winter’s day.
As if the weather was a poet describing heartbreak.
'Is it love or cheap wine that keeps one’s heart beating on a cold day?'
 I ask.
‘Wine,’ you wink at me, leading me to the liquor store.
We exchange smiles. Nonchalant smiles.
And in  one moment,
Million lives lived.
Between your eyes and mine.

‘Can you sing my name like it is a love song?
Slow and gentle, loud but low.
Love me to death,
Wear me like a shroud.
If there is no tomorrow,
Can you be my tonight?’

The beautiful thing about love is
no matter where you plant it,
love grows.
It knows no end.
That is also the sad part.

And I whisper to myself –
 “I don’t drink wine.”