Comments about Nithin Pradeep
Forever smitten by the tempest in her eyes,
and wish for a place in her own tiny vestibules, i walk..
haphazard, in frenzy, fold my parchments of thoughts
when all the distance in crude black fades..
in her, every wood is a palatte of variegated red, i find..
and her garden a vignette of her spirit tied to pinnacle..
enamoured i am, of the wild violets maddened by her reveries;
of her alluring smile they stole;
and in each reflects her mellow light, i see..