In the quiet lanes of a neighbourhood
where doors close softly at dusk
and windows glow with a tired yellow light,
someone opens a book.
Across the street
another pair of eyes travels a different page—
yet somewhere
their thoughts meet.
A sentence walks out of one house
and slips gently into another.
A character crosses the road
without ever touching the ground.
No one knocks.
No one announces the visit.
Yet minds gather
like neighbours at an invisible courtyard.
A borrowed book carries
the warmth of many hands.
Margins remember whispers,
folded corners hold small secrets of time.
And slowly, without effort,
people who may never speak
begin to recognize each other—
not by face or name,
but by the quiet light
that falls on their pages
late into the evening
when the world grows still.
For reading is a silent bridge,
built word by word,
where strangers from the same street
walk toward each other
without ever leaving their chairs.
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 10:50 AM UTC
The rain paints
the trees
with the colour of calm
transforming
the ambiguity
of seasons.
The sky, earth & mankind
realise
they are incomplete
without
the scripted tears
of the sky.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 1:29 PM UTC
This is about two people
who lived together
and realised that
a fine life together would be a lie to die.
But convinced each other ‘they will survive’
if they disguise.
Each day they dressed and masked themselves
in disguise, to survive.
The clock ticked and
the unrevealed was revealed
when they lived together, each killed the other.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 8:18 AM UTC
A slow eating evening
of a supine day,
obfuscating the vaulting dome
of the sky,
inviting the crickets
to take over the night.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 4:57 AM UTC
dad left
for his second tour of duty
on my third birthday
mom kept
a jar full of jelly beans
on the living room coffee table
every night
she gave me one to eat, saying
"when these jelly beans
are all eaten up,
dad will come back home"
sometimes
i would sneak another,
to help dad come home sooner
one night
the phone rang
and i watched mom
wipe away a tear
as she filled
the jar
back
up
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 4:48 AM UTC
We are all miscellaneous
ploughing the fields
of wasteland.
With a private understanding
of life
an incongruous effect,
Suffocating,
whether awake or asleep
in air conditioned rooms.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 3:22 AM UTC
The landscape of love
lies here
amongst the wildflowers;
under the antiquated trees
who dare to kiss the morning sun
face to face with the sky.
Beleaguered with the wild trails and apple orchards
perfectly silent, profoundly mute
like a blind man’s vision
I ready myself; to brace my end
on this landscape of love !!!
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC
Days dissolve
like islands;
in love.
Kisses grow into trees,
Magical things happen
when its you and me;
and
our happiness – decreed.
- 30 Apr 14
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
And then Gods turned the page,
the icebergs transformed into oceans;
Tristan oceans into barren land,
the land into fire & smoke
and mankind
metamorphosed into
nothingness !
Leena.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 11:51 PM UTC
As I sit alone and ponder
over;
a window sill,
a busy street,
a coffee mug,
a ringing phone,
a blowing wind,
a blooming bud,
you almost step in;
like you stepped into my heart;
tiptoed into my life
and then, we both , into each others lives.
At home, the mirrors are,
perhaps, dizzy with your presence.
The television , panting – on running a marathon.
And perhaps; the same flower intoxicates us,
with its fragrance,
on the very evening, when we felt the wind on our faces.
Leena.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 2:27 AM UTC