One more cup tea please.

It was one of the evenings
that saw our feet comfortably resting
on armrests high.
As we ate bhajiyas over chai,
musing over what made us and our lives….
An overwhelming urge to sift through your hair
competed with looking deeply into those dark eyes.
Tempting it was too,
to run my fingers on your lips
As mine brushed your skin with many sighs…

And you talked to me…
Oh, how you called out my name…

You spoke,
I awoke.
A reverie broken...
…and the tea gone cold.