Where did you go,
my love?
Where have I lost you
on my way?

I no longer know
where your mind
is wandering,
Few inches, galaxies away

Where do you
rest your head?
When our world
fells apart

Will you come back?
Will you reach out?
Tommorow, now or
hardly ever

The record player plays
the Vinyl of November,
the forthcoming of winter
and the apparent
festival of lights
amidst all the glow
a light shinier than the rest
radiated by this woman
draped in customary pink,
smiled like the light of a candle
lighting up the room.
A different match however
lighting up this candle,
unsettling it was to see and it still is,
but the beauty always lied
in one's being amidst the light
of this ever lit up candle.
The vinyl stops abruptly
bringing me back
to the cold dark room
as cold and as dark
as the reality has been,
neither a candle nor
a match to be seen.

This once I dreamed about
a rainy day in Paris,
when I saw you out of the blue
nailing the business grey,
I subtly walked across the bridge
hoping to run into you which is
exactly what I did,
sorry for the coffee spill
one can't possibly be allowed to
look that good in business grey.
With all the catching up to do,
towards a café near the tower
we made our way.
Amidst the anecodets
and the laughs,
time passed and the café
now turned into a bar,
not wanting the day to end
deep down I'd slowly pray.
Now it was midnight
silence echoing in the streets
and then came the two,
completely wasted,
wandering around and giggling away,
stopped by a bridge when you asked me
"who knew we'd meet again like this."
I replied "I knew... I knew
all along the way.",
everything that followed after this was
consequential to the beauty in this day,
That's when I woke up,
adding another one to the list of
dreams I hope turn into reality someday.

Tell me how does it feel
to be on the flipside of things,
I bet there's joy in every second
So dreamy yet so real.
I've had my share of moments
and I keep reliving them.
The things I pen about,
Look at you actually living them.
Tell me how does it feel
to be on the flipside of things,
I bet there's beauty in every minute,
Every minute as soothing as
when a wind chime rings.
I have my share of beauty
I pen it down every night,
Look at you in this shining armour
posing as her knight.
Tell me how does it feel
to be on the flipside of things,
I bet there's charm in every hour,
Unlike this ordeal.
Often I pen about
how I starve for
these moments and then I
Look at you as the same
moments you devour.