Holding the first light,
In their petals,
These summer flowers,
Quite often talk to me.
The sudden pull of emotions,
Or hammock of thoughts within me,
Silently the dewdrops unwrap,
And as I drench in the fragnance,
Quickly they hide behind the mist again!

In the mirror I see myself,
There are wrinkles around my eyes,
My black locks are no more black,
They appear like salt on pepper *****.

I squeeze my eyes to try to read,
And search for my glasses - here and there,
Quite often I ask my family,
The same question again and again.

Small things appear much smaller,
Also I try hard to listen something,
Every morning I write my to-do list,
Yet I find myself doing nothing.

Some days I am left alone –
Other days, I am alone at home,
Every day I am told –
That I am getting old.

Yet in my dreams
I relive my old days.
Once when I was young,
And my spirits were high.

Time has changed everything
My people have changed sorely.
No wonders, every day I am told –
That I am getting old!

At times, I just watch people
Like now - I see a pregnant woman
I think, what she must be thinking
Maybe - ' whether it's a boy or a girl'.

Crossing the Christmas Tree
I see an old man talking to his wife
In so many years of togetherness -
he still finds her benign.

As I sip my red velvet latte
My eyes fall on a couple
Both are sharing the same table -
yet conversing through their mobiles.

Eavesdropping upon the conversation
A daughter tells to her father
The best new year gift for her -
if he stops smoking forever!

I stop looking around for a while
And I close my eyes to realise
There is a world inside me -
that the adversity just hypnotized!

What I see is an illusion
Everything wrapped in spider's hammock
Behind the rusted lock
Still fresh are my memories
My doll dressed in years of dust
And the grandfather's rocking chair
Sip of the petrichor in my tea
And this dew upon the barren garden
Everything has changed in real
But it's still the same in my illusion.

in and outof my thoughts
come only your thoughts,
I surrender my dreams
to your thoughts,
thinking someday
you will look around for me,
feeling my presence
in my absence,
a day - when it will be
just you and me,
weaving uncountable desires
i just think of you,
faraway when the first light
will filter through these clouds,
till the snow moon will appear
from my window to your window,
i will live with your thoughts.

in the delivery room,
my heartbeat goes up, and then down,
in pain, yet I smile,
in few seconds, blossoms a new life.
I hold you in my arms,
and embrace you tightly to my heart,
sometimes, I see you in the moonlight,
at times – in the sunlight.
I kiss your little feet,
rub my cheek against your cheek,
I ask myself, endless times,
whether you really look like me?
you keeping looking at me,
hold my finger in your fist,
and lick my lips – now and then,
maybe that’s the nexus of my life!

holding my hand
he asked me to go
how shall I tell him
a piece of my heart lives in you

I still remember
the day we met for the first time
in this cloudless sky
you appeared as the full moon

I might leave you
but my soul will follow your soul
like a candle fly
it will always fly towards you

once I leave you
where shall I go
maybe amidst my ashes
you will know my love for you

Letter Box: ‘Why does nobody comes this way’?

Me: ‘Maybe, they prefer an email’?

Letter Box: ‘Really? That means I am no more needed’.

Me: Not really! Maybe, they need you for registered posts only.’

Letter Box: ‘Well, what is an email’?

Me: ‘It is an electronic message that is instant moving from one gadget to another’.

Letter Box: ‘Oh, so it is faster than me. It is instant that is why I am discarded.’

Me:’ You are not discarded. You are just less used these days’.

Letter Box: ‘It is instant and faster but can one feel the touch of the paper? Can a mother touch the words written by her son and feel the warmth of his affection? Can a father embrace the letters drenched in his daughter’s tear who is miles away? Can all this be possible in an email’?

Me: ‘No, not at all. But you know what the world has changed now. And maybe, you did not notice. There are more people on gadgets than in the garden, where you are place’.

Letter Box: ‘I know as there are no footballs that hit me anymore. There is no one who looks at me – waiting for that one letter eagerly. They just pass by me – as if I do not exist. Oh, it hurts, it really hurts so much’!

Me: ‘You are still needed, and that is why you are still here.’

Letter Box: ‘Maybe, but still I wait for that football to hit me, and that postman to unlock. I still wait’!

it was a starry night
whirlpool of wind kissed her locks
dressed in a white dress
she embraced the fragrance of roses
light-eyed eyes light up with hopes
she walked silently over the road

unknown to the swing of destiny
she walked under the numerous stars
assuming it was a moonlit path -
though it was a moonless night
believing in her undying belief -
and thinking the world is still pure.

what happened with her
was never the question
she was now distorted and ripped
neither it were her clothes
nor her messed up locks
but only and only her soul!

It has been a long time
I didn’t see the full moon outside
Clouds passing over clouds
And I hold my feelings deep inside
Yet I wake up every morning
With a hope that shall never die
Thinking today or tomorrow
A day shall give a chance to sigh
Distant tinkling temple bells
Remind me the journey so far
At times my faith shattered
Yet my belief holds me tight
And I wake up another morning
With a hope that shall never die!

Archana Kapoor Nagpal

under the stars
i was longing for light
filtering through the rainclouds
was the silver moon light

inch by inch struggling
it falls upon me
from embracing my flesh
to hugging my heart

gently sinking into my eyes
his deep black baby eyes
the closer he comes
I shy in diffidence

then I don't see
difference between black & white
probably under the stars
i was longing for his light

in silence of snowfall
amidst tinkling of bells
from
my window
to
his window
whispering of fireflies
years after years
I still remember
THAT NIGHT
from
my window
to his window
filtering of moonlight
years after years
I still remember
THAT NIGHT

~ Archana Kapoor Nagpal