From Hotels

From Hotels

It’s not stolen if it was meant for ye
I say indignantly in self defence
Not that anyone asked me
That is-not any one with any sense

It’s just a bottle of hotel moisturiser
That disappeared as quickly as it had come
A tiny bit that made me feel wiser
You never know when you’ll need some

I found it in that bag, you know the one
That we had taken on the jungle safari day
All zipped up, with pockets perfectly done
Perfect planning, even the anti-bear spray

In triumph and dust we’d returned to the hut
Still shaken and trembling a bit like a leaf
The soap from there was not special but
It smiles at how we’d laughed then in relief

Another time, a little perfumed bottle,
Barely enough for a whiff
They’d laid it out so lovingly
It was meant for me, I sniff.

It too came back home, somehow
I’ll admit, it looked pretty swish
Never got to use it, but even now
My travel box smells of a perfect holiday wish

I draw the line at slippers, cloth is a disgrace
But what would they have done with those
That bore my print deep on it’s face
Impressed, right there, with yours so close

Outlining our together place
I brought those lines back with me
They would not know how to keep them
These lines belong to our space

The shampoo and the conditioner
You can keep them, as you please
I leave them behind ostentatiously
(Who’d want perfumed grease)

To tell you I don’t need yours, or
Anything from you, I live in ease
Plenty where that came from, your
Tiny bottles are barely enough to tease.

Little hotel momentos I took
That matter not a jot
A letterhead, a matchbook
A pen, that I almost forgot

I lose them often, these objects mundane
One barely gives them a thought
Till a quiet moment when I look at them again
Precious memories, wittingly, I’ve brought.

(c) Meeta Sengupta

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