YOU WILL HAVE TO COME

When you were promising,

That you will come soon,

Then only I was not there.

Though the sun had hidden,

Behind the western horizon,

The moon was peeping,

Through the depletion of the cloud,

And was listening to your whisper attentively.

Bathed in the fairy lights of the moon,

When the western wind,

Was playing with your locks roguishly,

And you were busy untangling them,

Actually, it was eavesdropping our chat.

The innocent leafs of the trees,

Hitchhiking and rustling in the west-wind,

Were listening carefully to our love talks,

Though their green filament ears.

 When you were promising to come to me

In your slow and honeyed voice,

You might have noticed the troop of monkeys,

Abruptly became silent and motionless,

On the branches of the trees,

To listen to your melodious tone.

I have so many honest eyewitnesses,

Of your promises and my pensive heart,

That you neither can deny your words

Nor can show me an excuse,

You will have to come.