I want to come to your bed

They have drawn the blinds mercilessly,
for I cannot see through the glassy window,
transparency of the white coloured
curtain is dimmer to my half sunken eyes ,
feel of icing cold around me,

the frost hit window is pleading
to be opened the next morn,
I am like a frozen meat
lying on my iron cot,
feel of icing cold all around me,

Three months of chicken pox
Incarcerated me, body and soul,
within the precincts of this narrowed
ward , where medicated smell ,
tincture and cotton permeate,

like the tegument of tender groundnuts
the marks of chicken pox pop up on me,
the polished mirror refracts my sulking beauty,
I ignored him in the past, now it is his turn,
The visitors’ bell approves, augments the silence,

I harken the wail of my chic, my blood,
in the next room, for meningitis caught you,
My babe! the wall is the veil between us,
I want to come to your bed,
feel of icing cold around me.