Darling, will you come with me
When I’ve got two tickets
To paradise?

I rummage through
That old oak cupboard
The one that smells
Of mothballs and memories.
Tucked inside one of
Those old photo albums
Is a crinkled postcard
With snow capped mountains
And lilac skies
Sprinkled with fairy light stars.
I remember the first time
I held it in my hands
I was more fascinated
By this scintillating picture
Than I was
By the words you’d weaved
Picturing myself with you
On top of mountains
And beneath the skies
Wedged in between
Two breathtaking worlds.
Years later, when I
Go over your words again
I glance fleetingly at
The telephone, waiting
For it to ring
For you to say what
You’d written all those years ago
Darling, will you come with me
When I’ve got two tickets
To paradise?

About the Author

Pragnya Paramita

The poet is currently pursuing her under graduation at Delhi University, her passion extends from reading books to sketching.
“Writing poems is kind of an outlet for me, I write about it, even if it’s an old chair or the sky or just another clichéd love poem!” says Pragnya Paramita.

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