struggling childhood,
infinite smiles,
dashing youth,
amazing life,
the wrinkled eyes had,
treasure of memories to share,
but none in the old house had ears to hear,
so the treasure was buried,
deep under the soil,
with the wrinkled eyes....

the dream,
i dream frequently,
is you,
reciting my poetry,
sitting in that cozy chair,
which belongs only to me,
with your arms on my study table,
in your dappled blue shirt,
with your sleeves half folded,
with your eyes on my words,
and every time you ,
see your name,
you lift your archly eyelashes,
give a glance,
pass a smile,
and start reading again,
i dream ,
you bite your lower lip,
every time i say ,
i love you,
so i keep on dreaming,

without me,
the world would be a better place to live,
don't ever lie to me that,
i belong here,
when i already know that,
for fools like me,
this world isn't a better place,
don't tell me,
it will be alright,
when i know,
it's never getting better,
don't try to convince me that,
everything is going to be perfect.........

now read from bottom to top.

lips that once used to smile,
have started to abuse,
eyes that once used to shine,
are now busy in crying,
hands that once used to paint,
have started writing,
mouth that once used to sing,
has now,
started reciting poetry,
loving the wrong person,
taught her so much new..........

she could feel the time,
passing like grain of sand,
and all she could do,
was to wait ,
for all those grains,
to stuff,
all the cracks,
that he had left.

under the shades,
of those thick,long,black lashes,
were the pearls,
waiting to jump out of the window,
waiting eagerly to roll down his cheeks,
but there was a rule ,
which he should abide by,
that men never cry.......

she lost her sleep,
over someone who was just a nightmare,
she had always been ,
too much for men like him to hold,
she was the queen of hearts,
and he was just a joker,
dressed like her king...........