Ink on a paper I saw,
Running down through her hand.
I envisioned beautiful stories published on a stand.
Stories, fables, prose, and poems—
All were freed by the river of ink on the land of paper.

Politics, business, travel, and life—
Lovely words enhance the spice.
Writing is just like creating a culinary recipe;
If done right, you’ll feel like Gatsby.

Nevertheless, I am just a novice learner,
Making notes, burning my soul on the burner of thought.
Can I ever have that kind of poetic knot?

Never I saw this before,
Refreshing waves passing through my feet,
The moon gazing at itself with adoration,
Looking at its own glade.

Clouds shimmering dews from above,
It was truly a wonderful phase.
On one side of the seashore,
There stand three strange souls, but family.

Laughter on their faces, fun in their hearts,
My shoulders felt lighten as they unburdened the bore,
Sprinkling over the sand my aghast.
Then I saw the most beautiful—I don't know what it was.

A ******* a jetty,
Sitting silently on that boat.
An angelic smile, the breeze brushing her hair,
I couldn’t stop my eyes but to stare.

I cannot help now; it's impossible to revive.
Is this what they call love at first sight?

Maybe actions of mine
Are the things that bother her mind.
I can't help—
Those deeds are born of a cause:
Keeping cassette of her tunes on a rewind.

Pictures of landscapes I keep posting on my social wall,
Thinking—could there be a time
When I can visit them with her, maybe next fall?

To trouble her thoughts is the fear in me,
And I must refrain from telling her the truth,
Feared by the fact of losing her,
Whatsoever of her I have.

Adorable or mischief,
It's all in my memorial pack.

Only half of me stands here,
Incomplete.
The other half of me—
It’s hers now,
To cherish every fleeting moment,
Every stolen glance.
Hope this time I did it neat.

You always asked me to stay strong.
Not be afraid, if the things go wrong
I loved to irritate you with that silly song
Smile of your face kept my soul charged all day long.
I loved to be your kid and love it  still
It was hard to breathe for you I remember niche of the ticking clock.
Tick tock tick tock!!
How can I forget lord's gambling mill.
When mature kid's maturity suddenly bubbles
I hate being the bigger one.
Best I was small.
Holding your hands, just...that's all
I stand now where you are nowhere near me
Holding hands is just mere a scenery
Just a scenery.

What does the time say?

Don't run to catch me
Walk with me! instead
Then only you will see
all that's beauty and all things ugly

Cafeteria, a place where you buy food,
But get smiles for free.
Unbound zone—full of rejoice,
Yet with a stock of items but memories beyond choice.

A secure place where everyone unlocks their hearts out,
A real incubator of ideas, even bigger than any alma mater can ever be.
A place where you read personalities, but beware—don’t shout out loud.
Where you go without a schedule,
Shorter hours you get to stay, the more you ridicule.

We know about what is next door,
But the real masala is the gossipers on the table—
What a glore!
Whoever it may be, a lecturer or a boss who gave you a bang,
You will find solace ranting about them with your gang.

But sometimes it kills you when you are alone,
Just imagining an oasis of people,
Struggling to come out of the zone.

Why good things cant' keep going??
Why they have to stop?
Why the one you like the most goes away?
Why it never happens the way you want?

All these questions, I asked the silence to answer but the indifferent silence never broke a sound.

A moon in grief summons my soul to calm down.

Deep within, not so assured of,  my heart says after a pause.
Good things ends maybe there is more to learn.
To start something new, former must have end.
And hardest of all is to accept, sunshine of your day is not only yours to keep.
Rivers flows the directions, where mountains direct them to sweep.

Are these answers true only time will tell.
Still then I will wake in my sleep.