Brightness approached when I sprinted towards you-
Studies reached its pinnacle when I touched you;
Speech was of holistic turns,
Yet, Relax, relax were the terms.
You were furnished gorgeously, with items to pick
Perceiving you, I sat on my chair just to freak:
To sense myriad hues of creamy scarlet
And the drapes distinguished with it…
Flowers of love, books of romance
And laid-back lives.
Conspicuous memories, silent nights
Unobtrusive paradise, hot windy days,
Contemplations of life, spicy weeks…
Poems, stories and patronage to sense success.
Humors of sarcasm, laughs with irony,
Were all bestowed by you with treasures of worship…
And Me, with all marvels, and encompassing love
To be with you and with all you afford
Seemingly seamless to be -MY ROOM,
You are all for me-
Astronomical longings to the final offerings
MY ROOM TO ME IS ALLL…
Tucked away at the rear side of the stairs,
You are just more than a room

Before I pass on to my New Year resolutions,
Here, is a poem with full of temptations.
This is also a resolution, so new,
That every diary entry has a poem view.
Right from today, I have made the promise,
Only poems in my diary, no compromise.
In this way, a lot of poems I will pen,
Without siiting in the den.
Ahh! Diary, this poem is itself for you
I hope you give me a great year anew.
Don't worry, I will soon name you,
And decorate with all shades of hue

After a tiny nap I woke up,
And gave the curtain drapes a push-up,
Just to witness how they were torn-up.

I had no clue on who did it,
I doubted my brother cutting it a bit
Thinking it is a chit!

Then I had to spare him,
Because he was at the gym.
And then I saw my window open to view,
And suspected the squirrel anew.

Thus came the huge conspirator,
The squrriel, the top operator
Who tore my curtain drapes
Thinking they were edibles!

And now, I here my mother call,
Who is going to enter my room, so tall,
I don't know how I am going to tell her all,
For the squirrel tore my curtain; though small
Now I need to manage the brawl.

Watermelon, Oh! Watermelon,
Please come and fall on,
Cucurbitaceae family, you belong,
Nile Valley, you look-on!

So jucy and pulpy you are,
Not easy to get you afar,
Yummy juices you whisper,
Only in summer, we discover!

You change from red to pink,
And white in a blink.
You are our God in summer,
Even precious for a singer!

So many seeds you give,
Though bitter, I forgive
For ample juice you give
For in Summer, you make me live!

I have a brother who is the first,
I have a brother who is the last.
I am a girl who is in the middle,
Always accompanied by a riddle!

When I exchange blows with them,
This is how my mom condemns:
Give him respect, he is elder!
Show some sympathy, he is younger!

But, what Am I?
Doing in the middle?
I am not the one to be shown respect,
I am not the one to be shown sympathy...

And when my Dad exaggerates:
"My sons, the first and the last-
Are Always fast,
But, the middle is slightly in contrast"

Contrast, In What way?
I convey:
"I was away,
With my friends at the cafe,
When I had to give them a bouquet
Before I could reach the buffet!"

I reach great heights,
And show them delights
But always my neigbours tell:
"Your sons never rebel,
I think the middle is hell!"

And I am the middle
Who Is always unable
To tolerate their riddle!

Happiness is an expensive treasure
But, let me tell you, it has no measure
It can even be a poor man's pleasure
But, all that we need is to turn on that light.

Anytime, any place, to anyone
Happiness can start the fun.
No matter if you are rich or poor
You can still allure,
For it is an asset open to secure.

But be friendy and make others happy,
For it lies in how you treat them,
And stay at the helm.
Do make others happy,
And in turn you are switching on that light,
That bestows happiness at tough times.

If a rich fails to turn on the light
Happiness will not be a delight.
But, even if you are poor, forsaken in the dark
You can still leave a mark.

Even in the darkest times,
Happiness shows its mights,
But only if we turn on those lights,
Which, we forget sometimes...!