I'm weaving a pashmina
from the golden threads of our conversations,
adulterating it
with wool of lukewarm love
and much detested opinions.
I'll add the colour teal
that'll remind us of peacock blues,
sad and beautiful,
like our past and future.
Now let's stain it,
rip it,
cuddle in its shreds,
comfort ourselves,
undress each other
and crawl under this layer of warmth
until the day when one of us
smells summer in the air
and pulls the pashmina away.

- Swarup