Endless things to do,
But her thoughts I cannot confine.
They are open and free,
Like a whirly wind, do not know any bound or reach.
Real but imagined,
Shining like a classy rim of a motored wagon.

I can compare her with any long and stout,
Anything beauty.
By seeing her, my heart starts to fly like a cloud.
Just me—he is impatient, but I am at rest,
Asking, "Do not go without me; stay in my chest.

For I don't have her.
If I lose you, how will I live?
Don't tell me somehow!
Until her soul accepts me as a slave,
You will not go away from my conclave."

Is it real or a dream?
Don't answer that.
Love is beautiful.
Be cautious—it will tear, making a sack.

I sat near the door
watching people bursting in and out
Impatient but hopeful,maybe I would see
The one who make my heart feels allures

Fingers drummed on the table's top
Hour arm made a turn on the wall clock
Eager and impulsive, I turned into elephants child
Moving and shaking my seat

Wait game is a real upbeat.
May I have the grace to see your face.

After bidding for a long
Then I struck the ace
Aurora spread all over on their arrival.
Giving me ease, a reprieve for survival.

I wrote! I wrote… Was it a song? A poem? Nah...
Some gibberish stuff.
A cold breeze gave me a nose and a cough.
Heart poured onto a piece of paper,
Rediscovering the lost.

Gasping breath!
Sipping a cup of treasured thoughts.

In my mind, there was a face,
Covered with a shawl.
Closing my eyes to embrace that sweet scene—
But that's not all.

I saw a smile.
Trust me, it took me to a lovely exile.

The brewed leaves in hot water cup
Fragrances stronger,
Enough to lit you up.

Sipping them in the morning,
The only noises I hear
Are of the sizzling air.

Then, all of a sudden,
My eyes take their awaited slumber,
Hoping this nightmare
Won't keep my soul in grumble.

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.