Ain't no valentine (originally written on 14 Feb, 2018)

It took me a while to write this to you

and this message goes out to You.

Just You.

And I wanted to say this for a long time.

But didn't have the courage to say it all this time.

You make me feel powerless.

The world turns colorless

The emotion is overpowering.

I choke. I gasp. In a corner

I am cowering

You did it...and walked away.

And I sway, as you leave me

in its wake.

And I shake

This ain't no Valentine

You just got tag lined

That's what happens when you fart,

in a lift.

You schmuck.

****

Have a fresh Valentines day every one!

Under the stairs, we did it. (originally written on 26 Feb, 2018)

We did it.

Under the creaking stairs

that smelled of varnish

and musty wood

Behind the door

Where the clothes hooks caught our hands

and raked our skin

In the attic

where dust rose and fell

into a shaft of evening sun

peeping in

to catch some action

In the corner

as an old lamp shade

watched us from under its veil

we held our breath

and hurried

As we did it

left to right

and again

as we cleaned

the cob webs.

The Toastmaster (originally written on 18 March, 2018)

Wife: Why are the clothes still on the sofa? Don't you all have hands? Are you waiting for them to fold themselves?

Toastmaster: Do you remember that time? The year was 1995 and I was a bachelor. It was different during those times.

Daughter: I wouldn't know. I was told that I was born after my parents were married.

Toastmaster: The yesteryears! I still remember! We didn't have a sofa. But (meaningful pause)... there were three wooden chairs in the drawing room. With hand-stitched cushions. Two red (walks over to one side of the room) and one yellow. My mother would never wash them; beacuse if she had washed them, (sad smile) we didn't have another 3 to replace them.

Wife: That explains your showering habits too. Old habits, stink forever.

Daughter: Eeewwww...

Toastmaster: (poignantly) Speaking of stink, those cushions had a certain smell about them. the smell of spilled coffee, a few drops of sambar, mildew.

Wife: And your farts

Daughter: prrrrr...rrrrrr

Toastmaster: It acquired something from everyone who sat on them. A bit of personality that those cushions borrowed every time from anyone who rested on them. Inadvertently contributed in return for those moments of repose!

Daughter: (hands in the air) Every ass contributes!

Wife: Not in this house, apparently. Shut up and start folding your clothes. Otherwise go make your own dinner, like in the yesteryears.

Toastmaster: ".........."

Daughter: You gotta work on your conclusion. Was kinda abrupt. prr.