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LITTLE LOVE : SONNET 78

I write an essay for one word she sends
And a drop of her love does create an ocean 
Of love in me, and my wait never ends 
Hard though my prayer fetches her return. 
Then jerks me up my phone with midnight call,
'What're you doing?' Before I make my babbles right, 
She taunts and giggles calling me a 'pagal'
And snaps the line with the parting shot - 'Good night'...
Her mischief tickles me more than it does torment
Though unrequited goes my love and care,
Though more to my woes, she n'er does relent 
In teasing me on with her naughty affair. 
Yet, I do find my life in her each riddle -
The word, the moment, and her love albeit little. 

- N. P. SAMAL 

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