As i crossed the westward lane

As I crossed the westward lane
Where traffic ‘s always on the wane.
The road it seemed like an oasis
Peaceful, calm and just IS…

As I turned I saw his stare..
I am so used to it…I just don’t care..
It irked me in the first few days
But now it seems I want to see his face

I know I made his day
By passing his way everyday
He loved to stare at my face, my walk
My clothes , my hip, my eyes, my laugh

This dosa shop man..my poor little beau
Had so very little…to look forward to..
Hot and steaming he created dosas all day..
Unmoving uncaring until I made my way..

The silence …at times..stretched like a tautly drawn spring
On this road …till I left it with my hips’ final swing..
I was happy for the moment to have gladdened a heart
And knew I had given him a wonderful day’s start..


As his interest in me grew and grew..
It could not last…and this we knew..
One day his eyes met mine with adoration new
And I felt a glow at a devotion so true..

I never let down my dosa shop man
Never changed route..nor the other way ran
When things determined that I miss one day
I made it up on the next..and lingered away..

When my feelings were low and my morale down
His gaze would pep me ..like none I have known
As I felt his eyes follow me with love and desire
I felt a warmth enveloping me all through my attire

Then one day the dosa shop man ..he went away never to appear
I came , I saw , but could not see him re appear
The shop was there..the oven was there, but the dosa shop man..he was nowehere there..
Sad !..I wondered at this turn of things and hoped he had found someone to care..somewhere