Meetings of the two, floating clouds filled with beautiful hues,
An inexpressible fear of bursting
What if someone said those three little words before I drew,
To the perennial world painted as skies in her favourite blues?
...
So here, our moon lights up in the night sky,
So here, our dreams arise in our beholding eyes,
And ears are willing to hear tales of our years,
Where we dreamt and lived and loved our dears.
...
A refreshing winter evening,
With the sunset, on its crest.
The church with its evening prayers.
Relatively, the mass gathering.
...
Reading about the Oak trees, mountains, flowing essence of waterfalls, the scent of wet ferns, and the heart shaped leaves of Peepul.
Took my breath away.
And when I witnessed,
I was deeply inspired.
...
Flowers all over the blue sky
Blooming in the fields of misty clouds
Painted by the hues of all you's and eyes full of stars.
...
All our Christmas wishes are heard,
Down across the blue oceans and to the hills all above.
Shells loving pearls sat near the seashore;
Holding sapphire rings behind
...
Breezes of evergreen mountains carried words of eyes afar,
Dearly Sparrows in my tea garden were the first one to be seen in wars.
The pot half empty with water was their battlefield,
Who would first splash and sprinkle was the question on repeat.
...
Oldest ever wines enriches with time
Fresh grapes in vineyards of my country carries your breaths in binding airs of mystery,
I will save them, even if someday our melodies of spring ends after counting stars.
...
The year is about to end
I'm lying on the wet grass
A peacock comes smiling towards me to show his joyful dance,
And I'm telling him, " she too would love you at once, if she saw you dancing so well with your charms".
...
The shadows of the rainbow painted on your frames,
The gentle breeze of winter's art passing by your face;
Painting your tresses to swing with the tunes of winter's song
For the awaited spring and for the one
...
Down across the lane,
The citylights are glowing by heaven's loving beams
I hear the train coming, dear, by its enlightened iron wheels.
Shall we board the train and travel miles to the stars?
...
These breezes of the city of joy
Tells me to listen to the voices of the distant golden fields
While it blows towards the beautiful Ganga,
And the birds are flapping their wings.
...
The walls of my room are empty,
Just like I wanted my school bag to be,
I'm out of school now, with the weight of all empty things,
I cannot confine them in a bag. And so they have occupied all of my body.
...
Lost in the woods of thine brown eyes, I adore mine reflection there,
Never been able to treasure thyself before, no amount of appreciation would let go,
Who thought I'd smile like a fool, In reverse to how thou give thee butterflies all along.
Thou became mine cocoon, I'll be admiring losing my whol'st empire through thine eyes.
...
The sun shines bright, with its heavenly beams, shining all on the woods heavenly
it seems.
Woods, then confess their love for showers.
Showers, that fall from the heaven's above, that vow they keep so strong, and still till the infinity to the eternity, keeping this, as their wills.
...
When she was high up on the plane, and he was pouring out the champagne!
Little did she know, it was her from the beginning.
One by one she visualised her long survival days,
She gave a pat on her shoulder,
...
Here I am, writing my tale.
If you wish to listen, be conscious enough to keep your six senses inclined to every detail.
Put your attention on all my sentences, one after the other, falling and rising profoundly in the course of living time without fail.
I'm young, and loved, I'm beloved, and berated. You have seen me passing by you, just like an ordinary mortal being, with an exceptionally old soul immortal within me.
...
Just like the winds of spring, you pass by the cotton mill.
This spring doesn't bids farewell,
Like any other season,
And the leaves doesn't wither with time.
...
Thou know'st, dost thou?
The thou's of thine, suffused in mine.
Desire of knowing this well acquainted confab,
Which was spell out by thou anon,
...
The two sparkling eyes, were now explored.
Where mostly I searched for assurance,
And was assured by thine light;
Where I lost my way in the dark,
...
A Cradle Of Lullabies
Meetings of the two, floating clouds filled with beautiful hues,
An inexpressible fear of bursting
What if someone said those three little words before I drew,
To the perennial world painted as skies in her favourite blues?
What if the winter's silence was broken by gusty winds that blew?
The sky was not bound to answer,
Until he knew someone would accept the grays after ages too.
A bunch of sunflowers weathering in a bouquet,
Dry leaves and petals recalling the admiration which held them together hoping to sail, through the windy bay.
Ribboned wreaths are now in market;
Whenever I get a glimpse, I think about my day-dreaming silver rings.
It is still the same, even in days of Autumn's, as my spring's rays were kept in my heart's bottom.
Though at times, I try to look afar to find if you are standing there for being the colour I love.
All I see is always this I,
Adoring reminiscence, clear of sight.
Keeping rhythms of heartbeats and words, as finches are flying around in Earth.
While pitter-pattering is sounding like an old friend asking,
" How do you sail just for a pair of eyes, even without receiving a clue to write my tale in lines? ".
I smile, I rise to answer,
I gaze at the sky,
Unaware if they would read my chapter,
Uncared like snows in winters, Uncaged like the stars dancing in the moonlight.
Pastel colours in skies,
Butterflies rejoicing for the thread we tied.
"Long ago there were two little fawns, " they said.
They were brought up by the woods where they were born.
As they grew, the valleys and coasts sang like choirs in winds of dawn.
The sun always brightened their paths
Rays of golden lights were kept,
The moon became the cradle of faith,
Stars sang lullabies as eyes of their children slept.