The Morning Visitor

The corner of my bed lits up.

I try to close the curtains,

I wish to sleep some more.

But clearly you, the stubborn light 

falling on my face with all your warmth

do not wish so.

I get irritated and go to another side.

Tossing and turning on the bed

didn't help last night.

But how would a morning visitor know that?

And hence I don't blame you.

You don't know the nights.

And you hardly know the darkness. 

Your continuous knock on the door

annoy me at first but after a while

I get used to the knocks, to your warmth.

You come to me every day and give me

these early morning warm cuddles

I don't tell this to you often 

But I like your stubbornness

I like how you do not give up on me.

You don't see the teary-eyed nights 

or the soaked pillows 

But my morning face, puffy eyes

And smudged kajal tells you the story.

You believe it and choose to not run away

It takes courage to hug or cuddle

what is broken,

your wrapped arms can make it break down

or fall apart even more.

But you know how important it is to fall apart,

And hence you don't mind the ugliness.

Even when I am the most unwelcoming host

You don't skip coming to my window.

You are my stubborn early morning visitor

And I like opening my eyes to you.