Tiny tear drops of amber hued liquid
Roll back along the sides of cold glass
After I have taken that first bitter sip
That warms the insides of my mouth
And flows, scalding and wetting my throat
Permeating my very soul, like answered prayers of the devout.
They ask me how it feels, the aftertaste.
They wait for me to talk of flavours, notes
These connoisseurs of whiskey, Scotch, malts who constantly need to know,
Of all that need not be talked about.
And I the supposed sorceress of exquisite words
I fail to tell them ...
It tastes of a secret rendezvous on winter nights,
It tastes of fleeting memories of clandestine kisses,
And sepia toned conversations at stone lined firesides,
It tastes of thoughts that run too long or end before they truly form,
It tastes of elation and sorrow,
It tastes of the remembered, the forgotten,
It tastes of history, it tastes of tomorrow.
Swapna Sanchita is a poet, a writer, and an educator who studied engineering in college and went on to obtain a degree in management. Her collection of poems, Des Vu was published in June 21 and was a bestseller on Amazon India. She has contributed to a number of anthologies and journals. Swapna lives in Ranchi, India with her husband and two sons.
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