Morning walk in semi-sun.
Light gilds the last
of the figs, high up
on the branches,
burnishing them the bronze
of new pennies.

At the end of the year,
when all the months'
deeds, lessons, things done,
undone, the words uttered and not,
lie at my feet,
I exhale into light.

I wonder what
this day will bring?

details slip through busy fingers
but still warm the wistful touch
and time over-exposes memory
like a photograph left in the sun

so I don't recall what you wore
or the music we played that day
or where we were driving from
or the photographer counting down...

but I remember the flashbulbs when you held me:
the way they spun your hair gold
and star-bursted my vision
like we were the models of love

and this is picture proof
that the sunlight captured our moment
and I haven't forgotten what you said,
"write a poem about this."

You came to me in what I thought was a dream,
but it was actually the mundane,
and the secrets my conscious brain,
was keeping from me.

You were a part of reality all along,
it's just taken me a bit to realize it.
Sunlight can be blinding,
and raindrops are more obvious.

It is all about the thing that is the last whisper you hear  before you sleep.
It is all about the lingering feeling of a soft kiss on your lips before you snuggle the night away in his arm.
It is all about the random tide that hits you making you realise how much you're loved,
Like a silent sky people forget about sometimes but is always there when you look up.
It is all about the numbing chilly breeze on a wintery midnight, that makes you feel so much,
The roads and surroundings covered in orangish pink hues,  slowly humming to themselves, luring you in a trance.
It is all about the soft wintery moon smiling down at you,
Or the science exams that bring out your artistic streaks
It is about those moment of tranquillity where every piece falls into the places they belong.
It is all about the stains you get after laying in the grass early morning
Each dew drop looks like a twinkling sun of their own.
It is about getting to taste heaven in your favorite flavor,
And enjoy the sun  kiss your skin.
It is all about nani maa oiling your hair and your mother's eyes twinkling,  while she says you're such a spoiled  kid.
It  is about the hope that someone else  will get the door.
It is all about fluffy socks,  sweater with hand drawn patterns
It is all about flushed cheeks, freezing hands in your friend's pocket
Like the snow flakes that fall,
Unique in their own way,
Every season with itself brings
Its own flavor and shades,
And though summer is well known for  lighting a wildfire  in everyone's heart,
And adrenaline rush of first love,
Winter stands elegantly,  and let things run into a deeper course.

i can't believe he didn't love me--

i spent so much time
dreaming of what we
could've been,,, and
what we never had, **

on
those days when sunlight
would pour through glass
like liquid ****** and drown my
mind as if
nothing else existed// i remember..:

how i still coughed and cried;
knowing he gave
me up, as though
the memory of us was just a
vignette...

stained,
fleeting.

The Sun tells nothing but the truth.
Rays, unabashedly reveal and revel
in their (apparent) straight simple beams.
Basking and baking any unlucky-lucky soul,
Caught in the radiating pathway.

With a touch that grants,
bronzing berift of bruising.
In reality grants us sight
Welcomed by all but few,

And my word.         What a view.

With your touch I feel the shocks of love course through my skin.
With one single kiss, I am rapt.
Hopeless.
Fallen.
The sun must be so jealous that your laugh is brighter than she.
And if my life's mission was to harvest that luminosity -
Then blessed am I
To have experienced a lifetime's worth of exuberance
With you.

"To watch the water of the open ocean dance as it bathes in sunlight, there is not a more calming sight."