Homecoming.

Amidst the rustling of leaves
And the chirping of sparrows,
I hear footsteps approaching my door.

The door opens
And I hear my mothers voice,
"It is 08:00 beta".

I wake up from my sleep,
And I realize that today,
Even the air embraces me and welcomes me.

I am back home,
Yes, I am.

Too quick to be painful.

The alarm clock sits ominously in front of me.
In five minutes time, it will explode.

Closing my eyes, I try to catch a few more winks.
Behind the closed eyes, I realise,
Nothing changes today but the date.

And I see my life passing; too quick to be painful.

Foolish Glass.

There is this pane of glass
fitted next to the door of a tram.

On one of these days,
it stood in front of a pretty lady,
who had her cheek rested on her palm,
and had a faint smile on her face.

Unmoved by the image,
that pane of glass painted a blurred picture
of the cycle that stood behind it
and superimposed it over the pretty lady.

Witness to this savage insult of of beauty,
I wonder how foolish the glass could have been.

Crazy son of a bitch !!

I should have said it,
But it's best left unsaid.

You should have understood,
But its okay if you didnt.

Expectation - this crazy son of a bitch,
spins a web around me and then it slowly feasts on me.

A character in my short story.

Brown coloured chocolate sauce
slides down the mountain of vanilla ice cream.
Next to it, in silence, sits the piece of cake.
It watched you as you leaned towards me
and amidst the clamour of the coffee place,
whispered those magical three words into my ears.

It was a fairytale, or so I thought.
But today, I feel like I am one of the
characters in my short stories.
I speak words only that make sense
in the flow of the story.
A story that I myself am not aware of.

Reality on Drugs?

Sipping my cup of tea in the morning
and staring out of the window,
I wonder what makes the day so beautiful.

I see beauty in the spiders web
as much as I see in the snow flakes outside the window.

It is hard to explain the overflowing serenity in this mileau;
the reality, it seems, is high on drugs.

....Or the music dances to my tune.

I surrender to the temptation of music, smoke and spirit.
And Today, is it that I dance to the tune of music
or the music dances to my tune.

The problem though is that tomorrow,
I have to wake up in a world that does not play music all the time.

Stamping on Crumpled leaves.

Stamping on the crumpled leaves
On a pleasant February afternoon,
Little did I know that there exists a Soul
who amongst other likings,
Enjoys this one too.

Days weeks and now months have passed.
And today, sitting miles away from you,
While unfurling the scattered pages at my desk,
I take a minute to stare out of the window.

I think about you and it brings a smile to my face.
Savoring the past And dreaming of future.
A few evenings well spent
Provides fodder for hope for the rest.