HOME THIS CHRISTMAS

I can see the dimming lights aglow
From afar as I trod up the steps to our door,
I ring the bell but I hope I haven’t woken you up
You open the door and stand there aghast
Looking at my dishevelled state


You’ve never seen me unkempt and I remember

How much you hated it when I didn’t shave
I can see it all in your eyes now
Your eyes tell me what I didn’t want to hear
I hate it myself to bring this on you


But I’m sorry I just couldn’t stop myself

I’d like to see the kids, I’ve some explaining to do
You stand speechless searching for something to say,
“You” is what you finally manage
I can understand the pain that you’ve been put through


I stand there as incongruous as those Chinese lights

Glowing in the dawn, we both have so much to say but
Nothing brings the words out, I stand there for a while
Noticing that you still wear your hair the way you did
Five years ago and how captivating you looked


Even though you had just woken up

I bring out a couple of bags from my briefcase
And pass them on to your trembling hands
There’s a pink dress for Mona and
The latest John Mayer ballads for Robin


Our moment has passed and I will leave now

There will be no goodbye kisses this time
As I start trudging back to the freezing street
I wonder whether you’ll tell our kids that
I was home this Christmas

Damn, it’s cold!



One response to “HOME THIS CHRISTMAS”

  1. […] This piece of work is the sequel of the poem I wrote last Christmas titled ‘Home This Christmas.’ It speaks from the woman’s perspective in the relationship and addresses the fractured and […]

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Mohul Bhowmick

Mohul is a national-level cricketer, poet, sports journalist, travel writer and essayist from Hyderabad, India.


Copyright © 2015 by Mohul Bhowmick.

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