Four Seasons

-
There are two things 
I forgot to tell you

the first had to do 
with the biting chill of winter
and the second with the way
the colours run in spring

I forgot to tell you
because I only knew you
in the summer and the fall
the time of long days and pretty sunsets.


Popular posts from this blog

ख्वाबों के परिंदे

-
Image
खुले नीले आस्मां तले हवा ने अपने पंख खोले और तुम्हारी मुस्कान से चले एक राह निकली है मुझतक   तुम्हारे ख्वाबों में जलता हूँ अपने ही प्यार को देख देखकर   मेरा ख्वाब और मेरी आँखें बंद न हों .    
Read more

At night

-
Image
At night at night you're not here at night at night you're not here  any more than day at night you're not here no more do I dream no more do I wake  any more at night 
Read more

Dissociation

-
Image
The steam from the black coffee rose in a jagged, translucent swirl, a ghost of heat against the sharpening chill of the Dehradun morning. It was a bitter brew, the kind that stained the teeth and anchored the soul, yet today, its acidity felt distant, as if he were tasting a memory of coffee rather than the liquid itself. On the terrace, the air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and the impending petrichor of the Mussoorie hills. The clouds were thick, bruised swells of indigo and slate, huddling together over the peaks like a congregation of mourners. He moved among the pots with a rhythmic, practiced tenderness. The bougainvillea was thirsty; the ferns needed a gentle misting. Around his ankles, the cats—a shifting mosaic of calico and shadow—weaved in silent, desperate anticipation. Their mews were sharp, needle-thin sounds that usually pierced his morning fog, but today they sounded muffled, as if he were listening to them through a thick pane of glass. He turned towards the ...
Read more