Radio Commentary

She,
Who would balance the world
On her fingertips,
Would hide in the Darkness
That lies between the flickering of flames
Fiddling with the curtains,
Breathing secrets in my ears

Her secret kisses
Would hang in the air,
Frozen between sighs,
Holding my breaths hostage
In the palm of her tiny hands
Creating little tea-rooms
From her imagination for us

Over cups of riotous tea,
In the deserted shelters of memory
We would hold hands,
While lording over cake crumbs
Drowning in the quicksands of eyes,
Playing her personal
Favourites amidst the never ending
Radio commentary