The tale begins..

Like a pressure cooker holding the steam in hush,
His chest is holding the heart wanting to gush;
He thought his heart was too hard to slush,
And this folly makes him blush.

New songs on the list; he felt new air,
Suiting up to meet a kind rare,
Reminding himself whole time to emotionally not go bare,
On the way in car, he looked at himself in the rear.

Nervously stroking his stubble he says,
Will keep it for her forever if she likes it this way,
‘Never made myself up for any girl,
Will I even make her feel the swirl?’

Waiting for her on the table,
Its been 40 minutes waiting, horrible!
And all the composure he was practicing on,
In a flick of her glance, he forgot holding on.

He is getting up to greet her,
Not knowing how he should just greet her,
In the trying of not to show the desperateness,
Decides for a handshake, yet confusingly ends up in an embrace.

He loved her hair, the richness in her smell,
She looks up and a hundred things her eyes could tell,
It is the best feeling he felt, the best sight of her eyes, hell!
He lets himself fall for her; he let himself fell.

She carried him throughout with grace and subtle,
She knew what she was getting in, could be a trouble.
But his arms were too beholding to let go like a bubble,
Inviting shrines on him, she looks in his eyes saying, ‘ I love your stubble.’

I’m happy to bring value to you readers! You can follow my work on Instagram : @madhvi_
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