Sometimes the rain drops
are so big and succulent
like mangoes
and tears
and temple bells
at dawn

The parched earth
smiles
and welcomes all
in her embrace
the rain drops
ripe mangoes
endless tears
and mystic sound
of temple bells
at dawn

I listen the sound of the waves,
booming quietly like a lullaby,
With a pleasing summer zephyr levitating across the graves.

I witness the water dancing against the golden sand,
And it’s each drop laughing with their mouths wide open
Making the sea gulls cry, as if in a band.

I hear the sound of the butterflies fluttering,
Across the loose trees
Talking of despondency, contentment and of course,
the beauty of the waves crashing.

I smell your scent, looking towards my right to see you,
Seeking pleasure in those pathless woods
Walking hand in hand,
And exploring the breeze
Beneath those rhapsodic trees.
-Khushi :’)

Shaken branch,

Squirrel ****

Blossom overthrown

His hand clamped around her wrist,
Held firm beneath the tree.
He inhaled the fresh and warm air,
Smelled the lilac and the sea.

She glanced at him so slyly,
Warm lips curled into a grin.
If only she could tell him,
If only she could win.

When he found her in the corner
She warned him of her sin.
He pulled her from the ground then,
Her once full frame now so thin.

She told him he must leave now,
She pushed, a gentle shove.
His red lips met her chapped ones,
"I'll never leave, my only love."

But just then, two weeks later,
He placed a lily on her grave.
A tear rolled down his dry cheek,
The only one he couldn't save.

Still he sits, beneath the tree now,
Smells the lilacs and the sea.
She's just a whisper in the wind now,
"But the only whisper that's for me."

The stillness is absolute - not a sound.
Not a whisper in the trees although I see them sway  in their drunken yet graceful dance.
In the distance blue skies invaded, scores of pairs of wings flapping madly,
Alert to a danger only they can hear.
Zigzag of black bodies, united in their plight.

In my meandering  along the riverbank I see the water rise and fall , each little crest tipped with gold , fleeting dalliance with the sun, now low in the sky, ready to give way to her moonlight sister.

As day surrenders to night I am reminded of the silent films - a feast for one sense only.
Ears rendered useless, hungry eyes soaking up every small detail.
In those moments of stillness a near perfect calm engulfs me.

Only to hover like smoke - opaque for seconds then gone.
Fleeting in our meeting - brief pirouette of joy.
Before my return to melancholia.
I know I shall return to stillness.
It’s just a breath away.