"O poor, unthinking human heart! Error will not go away, logic and reason are slow to penetrate. We cling with both arms to false hope, refusing to believe the weightiest proofs against it, embracing it with all our strength. In the end it escapes, ripping our veins and draining our heart's blood; until, regaining consciousness, we rush to fall into snares of delusion all over again." Rabindranath Tagore , The Postmaster

He greets me with a woof
and a generous lick,
Accompanying me from the bus stop
to our house on the corner of the street.

He then sits joyfully at my feet
   Wagging a happy tail,
After fetching me a bottle of water,
A ritual he performs without fail.

  Moments later he drags me by my skirt
To the lawn adjoining our house,
  He throws a tennis ball at my feet
And dances gleefully seeing it bounce.

After an hour wasted happily in play,
   He brings me my towel as I
proceed to take my bath
     at the end of the day.

He waits patiently until I emerge,
    Never tired of waiting- poor old chap.
From that moment onwards
   Till the time of bed, he gladly occupies my lap.

A beautiful friend in the journey of life
   is all it takes to make it worthwhile,
A loyal companion, a trusted ally,
  forever willing to be on my side.

The silence of the night
piercing my ears
The clock ticking past midnight
Its ticking ringing in my ears.

The palm trees swaying in the wind
cast dancing shadows on my window pane,
The crickets' relentless chirping
Persistent, and mundane.

The moon playing peek-a-boo amidst clouds,
In the dimly lit sky bereft of stars,
A barking mongrel every now and then
And the occasional hooting of passing cars.

Suddenly, and yet not sudden
The dawn breaks, birds chirp to usher a new day
Trucks and cars and buses plying the streets
Completely engulfing the silence of the previous night away.