One day, when we’re tired,
Of the droning monotonous lives we live in,
And are flummoxed by everything that happens around us,
When the day is done and the sun sets down,
I’ll come over to where you sit all day,
Looking at those tiny-font lines of code,
And wondering if they’ll do the magic this time.
I’ll ask you out for a drink or two,
You’d look at me with the same grown look,
We’re growing old, and drinks don’t charm us no more,
You say it’s better to be in your senses,
What’s the fun in getting tipsy anyway,
When we’ve done that so many times?
Let’s try something new, for a change, you ask,
Let’s go out for a cup of tea.
So we walk outside, and the drizzle hazes your glasses,
You take it off and wipe it nonchalantly,
And that’s the first time I see your eyes,
As naked as it were in my dreams.
You eye me now, where am I lost?
I smile and say that I was wondering,
Are you a ginger or a cardamom person?
You pay no heed and continue to tell me the story
Of a neighbor who loves your dog.
We walk for a while, the rain’s now stopped,
And the last sip of tea remains in your cup,
You gulp it down, and we rush back to office,
You to your lines of code, and I, to mine.
And when after a while, I turn my head,
You’re smiling on the phone, your eyes are bright,
Telling him how you just had tea,
Subtly omitting out the colleague.
One day when we look back,
To trace how we fell in love,
We’ll not remember the numerous times,
We went to the pub, or danced to songs,
Which we could not remember the next day,
We won’t remember all the drinks we had,
Or all the ones we didn’t.
But that one evening, when we walked in the rain,
And tried to keep ourselves warm,
Tea being the only help,
And when I listened to your story,
Of the neighbor who loved your dog,
Is what we would remember as,
When it all began.