Incomplete Forever

  The eve of Sunday moving slowly towards the night. The Azaan from a distance can be heard as the sound of a passing train. The mind is in search of a thought that it can muse,– while, the soul is in the mood of sitting back and enjoy the eve. There is a serenity, there is quietude,…

Morning (An Untitled Poem/Poetry)

The canvas of that winter’s late dawn–the dawn that welcomes the early morning, When the birds are little tired after its session of morning chore, When insomniac, might and often, leave sigh and said another night passed, When another few of the city woke up, the joggers and walkers and chaiwallah,  Was colored with the hue of…

Mask

  We laugh, We smile. Our eyes get fill with water at their every action. The stress or mundane or whatever the condition Our mind is in, they drain them out in a moment. Whose tears they’re hiding? Whose seriousness they’re hiding? Their or us?   Daily Prompt: Seriousness 

Cher Ami…

The days were long, merry and gay. No blue. Only the vibrant happiness. Shadow of those (each) days was now that we all have to cuddle on, to cry on. My friend, long time haven’t heard from you; long time hasn’t met. How’re you, my friend…What you are up to now…Did you get married or…