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Windswept trees
Rain washed roads
The Koel meekly sings, perched upon the neem tree
The curry leaves, cup together
to catch the raindrops, which roll down with ease
The slender stems, sway and swirl
Spreading an aromatic fragrance
As the raindrops do the tapioca dance
with the red rounded berries and leaves
The butterflies flit in search of nectar, supreme
The yellow oleander flowers to match their wings of lime green
The dragonflies have puddles to keep
Buzzing around in brown translucent wings
This day, today, to be reminisced someday
In a sepia toned, old photograph
6th September 2020
Inspired by the rain and the way it rained on the curry leaf plant, just  outside my window
In our front yard :)
He is quiet and confident
Always does what is right
Quite a conversationalist
When relevant

Believes in keeping to himself
In a place of unknowns
Knowledge and wisdom his strength
Diligent and optimistic an achiever in life
Simple and good at heart
Understands and complements mine

Loves romantic songs
I am just the opposite
Can’t stand any
Retro is the only station, we listen to together in the car

Has little understanding or
interest of what I write
Yet, always listens to/ reads my scribbles
Our choices and tastes opposite as can be
Not, when it comes to matters of heart
Wrote it for my spouse, Aditya, for his upcoming birthday( 6th September)
A queer and epicure
A problematic diet
A teenage workout
I had to go to the prison bar
Lcked out my cell
Push ups on the go
With the trust in my heart
There was despair
I was raised to go
Home
Stay at home
Different shades
Take it from here
Better believe
You never stay same similarly
Indeed there's a reassurance
iknow
Somthing in your mind
Hard ot get, hard to figure out
SOmething bothering you
Man the racism isn't
There
It's the hate
THe sympathy and liberty
With the justice of a sullen symbol
Of sudden death
Of sombre nation
With the fearlessness
With the challenge of scale and bellicose resistance
I better work and stomp out the hate
THat I have
I was little I wanted to stay at the home
Away from the cigarettes that close ones ask for
If you knew me my face
Even the Devil wouldn't recognize
Trust me a face in the
Neu ce fleur
Friends with you and take it in deep and keep calm. Basically, go rub yourselves and scratch yourself in the head. if you read this, I bet you'll want the lock of poetic eyes closing in on those windows. Of your nervous eyes that serried in the shade of the moonlight. Do you like it? Please Like

— The End —