Soon it will rain,
and there will be
some smell of ground,
some umbrellas will
cover the roadsides.
But before that
I will be in home
in my window.
Will watch the
rush of rains from there
till evening,
till the poetry ends.

Again and again and once again
I face a blank white paper.

Sometimes I feel like I haven't yet slept,
I haven't dreamt,
I don't know what dream is.

Once this happened,
you said you love me,
under the blue sky.
This is happening again,
that the sky is taking your side.
This will happen again,
that I will ask you
to say it again.

Got my own spring,
Got my own reason to bloom.
People who said, waiting won't worth,
let me say it once again for them
I got my own reason to live
and own reason to die.
But still I will fail to say,
which is more important
waiting or trust?
Cause I lived some moments of nothingness too.

There will be a different story
which will be just by side but far away too
It will be a part of land if we see
But if we touch, we will know it's a river.
May be there might be someone watching from far
but if he will say the story will sound like magic.