The silent hero

The snow was white all over, its shining texture hiding the soldier in plain sight... the border was near, he held the position of sentry, looking out for intruders... he slept in a hollow in the snow...neatly carved in exact precision, hiding his rifle within... his eyes remained transfixed on the imaginary enemy, he kept looking at the whitest of white sheets of snow covering the lovely valleys... He seemed to smile onto himself , lucky to have watched this awe inspiring sight... even as the cold winds lashed, the snow sending chilling shards into his body he looked without flinching into his vast realm of fire... his stomach growled in hunger, he picked a small piece of meat and chewed... out of the corner of his eyes, he saw movement, his trained eyes capturing the enemy in his vision... Soon six shadows crept along the white expanse of the valley... he waited for them to cross beyond the border... When he observed their guns , he moved to signal the alarm... Within seconds the border was patrolled by its protectors... but the soldier stood up, proudly gazing at his work... two rounds of fire ripped through his body, hot young red blood spurted high into the air and came crashing down into the white snow , decorating it red... Just now

Phoenix

I am a phoenix,do not count me out... i shall fall once, twice, and many times more, i shall rise again with every fall... I am strong, my weaknesses will fall, as the smoke rises, i shed the past... I am a phoenix, i shall still fight long after my breath is gone... the fire shall be my source of strength, it shall burn away my flaws... I am a phoenix, and i shall rise again...

Phoenix

I am a phoenix,do not count me out... i shall fall once, twice, and many times more, i shall rise again with every fall... I am strong, my weaknesses will fall, as the smoke rises, i shed the past... I am a phoenix, i shall still fight long after my breath is gone... the fire shall be my source of strength, it shall burn away my flaws... I am a phoenix, and i shall rise again...

SHE TENDED TO HER WOUNDS

She was scared, she was shivering,

her home work was half done, full of errors...

The clock struck ten, she looked at it again..

.almost willing it to go slower...

The door opened, he walked in, she stood still...

Every filament in her body shivering...

She looked at her mother for help, she looked aside at something...

She shrieked trying to get away, she was caught in his pincer like arms,

she dreaded what came next...

They tied her to the table and then came the lash,

down it came in thunderous crack, there was tears in her eyes....

Her mother looked on, without a drop of remorse; she was immune to it...

A weekly ritual for her brother, he beat the living daylights out of her only daughter...

The bleeding body of her, trembled, in agony which was still yet to come...

Four men came; two with a camera recorded their shameful acts in glory...

She felt her entire body burn, her soul convulse in shame...

She endured in silence, her young dreams shattered...

Her mother collected two hundred from him, hung her head low, and thanked him...

She tended her wounds....

THE HEALING

The skies are dark and gloomy,

 there are tears waiting to flow from my red eyes...

There’ s a hollowness in my soul, betrayal sounds bitter...

The sadness sticks, like an ugly dream haunting,

Memories of friendship now turn sour...

A sense of stupidity attaches itself to me,

 I ask again and again, was I blind in trusting a friend...

There ‘s a sole silence, waiting for her apology,

which I know I shall never ever get, yet I wait for a miracle,

 step deeper into quicksand..

.

There’ s a voice shouting, I realize its raining,

 my brother comes running and pulls me out to dance in the rain,

Each drop that dances on my face

, takes away my inherent sadness, the tears flow,

 like the Ganges washing away the ash...

My shouts of  joy, draw my family to join the fun...

As my mom, slowly dries my long flowing hair, she hugs me tight...

A sense of warm love, flows through my heart, what ever I shall face,

 however sad I may be, I’ve a family to whom I am the apple of the eye...

THE DRAMA QUEEN

She wept as in competition to the great floods of apocalypse,
Her melodramatic intensity convinced every living soul that he was the culprit who had stolen her two centimeter pencil !!

Déjà vu had forewarned the entire class of forty that she would extract her payback and revenge on this poor hapless friend of theirs...
   
She shrieked in terror, she trumpeted her shrill voice and shouted at him, who sat next to wall!!

THE entire world knew he would never want her pencil...
She however waited for the class teacher to arrive..
She would put him in jail for his act of crime...
      
With a tongue full of profanities, heart full of genuine hatred, she shouted on and on...

THE guy by the wall in one fit of rage got up and drama queen ran away in fear...

Crying now she fell down and found her dear friend!! THE two centimeter pencil again...   

THE STORY TELLER

It all started with a story, long long ago in a village,
By the fireside, listening to grandpa tell stories of the wild forest beyond our huts...

Wild dogs, foxes, lions And tigers ,
Talking Ghosts, walking trees,
and the realm of darkness,
Several of us around the fire donated our fears onto the soft earth, some shivered around in fright and ran away back home to sleep...

and so began the story of how I ran away into the dark jungle with my accomplice in mischief...

Night was cold. the moon was high and not a bloody vampire in sight

the mists were high and the glow of white hung everywhere, not one curious ghost to give us company...

No tiger with sharp teeth, no lion with furious eyes, the trees were sleeping...

we were found next day by the search party that had gathered,
We were given a thrashing, verbal as well from the cane...

So began our turn to glorify the darkness, to paint darkness into fright into the youngest miscreants of the village...

Darker villains, horrible trees, deadly flowers, slithering snakes, gnawing worms with giant teeth, a hundred other monsters took shape in the woods, seen by every soul at midnight   

It all started with a story, long long ago in a village,
By the fireside, listening to grandpa tell stories of the wild forest beyond our huts...

Wild dogs, foxes, lions n tigers ,
Talking Ghosts, walking trees,
and the realm of darkness,
Several of us around the fire donated our fears onto the soft earth, some shivered around in fright and ran away back home to sleep...

and so began the story of how I ran away into the dark jungle with my accomplice in mischief...

Night was cold. the moon was high and not a bloody vampire in sight

the mists were high and the glow of white hung everywhere, not one curious ghost to give us company...

No tiger with sharp teeth, no lion with furious eyes, the trees were sleeping...

we were found next day by the search party that had gathered,
We were given a thrashing, verbal as well from the cane...

So began our turn to glorify the darkness, to paint darkness into fright into the youngest miscreants of the village...

Darker villains, horrible trees, deadly flowers, slithering snakes, gnawing worms with giant teeth, a hundred other monsters took shape in the woods, seen by every soul at midnight   

THE MOUNTAIN OF LIFE

Thousands upon thousands had gathered around the treasure trove,
There it lay on the ground in a humungous heap scattered everywhere...

For all they looked they found their treasure in the distance,
Lines and lines of hunters came, carried their loot at hand,
no one grudged another, no one fought over the spoils, everyone grabbed weights worth ten times their own...

As far as I could see, thousands upon thousands of ants marched to the mountain of sugar I had put,
Big and small, red and black,
Older and younger, marching in order in a line,
Queues of them, akin to temples and god they thronged to collect their treasure...

In discipline they could every army to shame, onward and onward with one goal they marched, following the trail left by the one beyond...
None fought for more.

No jealously nor a hint of malice,
They were satisfied with their share...

Like an army they did come, gone back home without a war, they had left clean this mountain of sugar     

the sinner

The whip shuddered to meet his bare back,

It was thousand whiplashes for every robbery...

So it stood that sixty thousand lashes be administered to the thief...

He was young, in his prime,

like a greek god smiling he stood in the square his hands and legs tied,

the entire city watched him smile...

He still smiled, when the lashes kept coming,

and when it reached three hundred, the first drop of blood fell to the ground,

Soon every one got tired of lash after lash flying away like waves on a solitary island...

Twelve men now took their turns to administer punishment...

To every lash after two thousand,the crowd shouted, willing d poor kid to die, but he stood still enjoying every beat that hit him...

Blood now ran in torrentz, the count was lost, it rained blows, he smiled...

He fell on his knees...

To everyone present, he told he was sorry, 

To every one present he told he is happy

at last to watch all his sins leave his body...

He is sad to see the very people he robbed now feel sorry for his fate...

He tells them,

 "tonight i may die, tonight i may die as a hero in your eyes, every lash. Every scar i bear shall bear testimony to my sins, for i ve robbed and rich and poor alike..,

brought rifts between brothers, brought marriages to a halt,

ran away with a life time full of savings,

i've wasted them on wine...

 I've wasted my life on everything vile...

If i live tonight despite these lashes,

I shall leave as a changed man,

If i die tonight let me hang here in shame...

Let it deter all those who sin"

Those were his last words...

an ode to the poet

Titled: An Ode To The Poet

Is he who writes a poet?

Is he who preaches a philosopher?

He who feels the joy of innocence,

she who loves the innocence in joy...

Is he who plays with words of rhyme, a poet?

He who can feel the richman ’s  bane, the poor man ‘s boon,

she who can feel sadness in a strangers eye,

 she who can understand courage bravery and stupidity...

Is he who knows his words, a poet ?

She who can bring life to words,

he who can give life to the dead...

Is he who begs, a beggar?

is he who wins, the only winner?

Is he a poet, who writes a thousand verses without feeling it in his blood...?

He is one who inspires, builds hope into words, crafts fire into courage...

He is who, who can be king and soldier alike without being both...

She who can feel the wind tell tales, spin tales to free your mind...

He, a poet; can be

If and only if he can read the eyes of all men, live with them and die as one of them.

he is the philosopher, the humble man...

she is the smile on an innocent face, a painter who conjures life…

There is a but a poet in every man or woman...

the story

They were three, walking along this forgotten road that stretched for miles and miles, supplemented by trees and boredom all along...

They were three, on a journey...

Their path although in plain sight -clear , was riddled with danger..

The leader stopped mid path, the two stopped, dropped to the ground, all three could feel it in their bones that something was wrong,

The trees on either side looked sinister, blocking off the warmth of the sun,

the path now looked black,

The silence adding to the eerieness...

The three resumed their journey again, unable to shake off the bizzare feeling...

They camped that night under a tree,

That was when the leader had a vision so dark, so chilling that he woke up in a sweat...

The demons of his past came haunting that night,

His father’s killing , his promise to his mom in her final moments...

Escaping the perils of the night,

With two most trusted friends to a distant kingdom....

They travelled through villages, towns and cities,

dressed as labourers, shepherds and

sometimes acting as drunk friends...

The kingdom they ruled now looked at him as a traitor,

the killer of his own parents...

His step sister had taken over his kingdom...

He had given it up,to fulfil his mother’s last promise...

The dream still troubled him, the bloody dream ended with his buddies being executed for treason, their heads chopped off by his own axe in full public view...

The three continued on their journey for ten more days until they reached the port

kandappa gundappa...

It was here that his path became truly dangerous…

They travelled for days , nights and day turning to one,

It was  night,when they reached the city,the gates were closed...

There were several other travellers just like the three,

a shepherd had missed the last bell, and ended up on the wrong side of the wall...

So did a group of young men, a pregnant lady,

An old couple...

The night was silent, except for the bleating sheep,

the leader of the three woke up uneasy, remnants of the last dream too vivid in his memory...

It was then, he saw this pack of hunting dogs, circle the pen in expectant joy, in the next minute a long throaty scream from the dying shepherd broke the nights air...

The three of them were given a choice ,to slay these dogs,

wild eyed n blood thirsty, trained to kill and ruthlessly efficient...

Two swords and a mighty axe lay in confinement,the leader of the three looked into d sky...

He jumped into d path of a hungry dog,it bit him hard before his axe came down upon d dog s last breath...

Soon the dogs were culled,safety was restored at last...

But their bravery n valour was well seen,their acts would need explanations, the leader of the three needed medical attention in a land full of enemies...

The gates opened at seven the next morning,the guards cleared d dead...the company of three now accompanied the pregnant lady as her brothers..

her husband had died tryin to protect her...

The lady’ s sister was a doctor,she would help...

A string of spies watched their arrival and started their horses…

A lot of blood had been lost, a patch of red hung as a flag on his dull attire...

They gave themselves names,

Dharak , dhandak  and  leader was given d name karma...

Dharak, the master of story telling crafted a life full of lies , convincing d lady of their story...

It was noon when the lady took them to her sister s house...

She was a young doctor, she was beautiful, n within a heartbeat she knew karma was her man...

Karma looked at her with awe, shocked beyond belief, her green eyes,

blue robe and the emerald necklace made her a goddess...

She treated his wounds, she stayed at his side for a week...

For almost till then, karma had forgotten danger, his promise, his plan of revenge,

his ordeal of  misfortune...

That was when he asked if she knew a scholar named "Hannada"...

Her expression turned grave...

There was fear in her eyes, a trembling in her voice, she almost choked in shock...

She knew, karma was danger the minute he walked in, yet she felt as if she d known him for years...

She kept repeating  'hannada',  she fainted...

Karma took her in his arms n placed her on d hay, he too was shocked...

His mom s last words were embedded in his memory, meet hannada n he shall help !

THE doctor Naksha was woken up,her sister enlightened karma with the story...

Hannada was no scholar, he was a trained killer employed by the king...

He had murdered and butchered Naksha’ s husband n her kid in front of her eyes...

There were tears in Karma’s eyes, the other two listened intently as the story went on...

Hannada worked for the king, his father was the king...

Something did not make sense, why was his mother’ s last wish to see a trained killer...

Naksha was married, his heart bled for her ordeal, he was a spider caught in a web...

Meanwhile the kingdom s capital was ready to welcome their first queen...

She sat solemly disgusted, her entire mind in a wreck,but she held her royal poise...

She looked out onto the kingdom she now inherited, thanks to a bizzare turn of events...

A murder and a poisoning, an accusation against her missing brother...

She hated her step mom, but mourned inexplicably for her father, and brother...

She knew in her bones, her brother was innocent,

she also knew his heart was filled with hatred for her...

She had the crown, no trusted ministers, no immediate family...

The kingdom at stake, her dignity on the line, she was named the queen,

 the kingdom was decorated in heavenly attire, every street urchin got a gold coin,

she sat on d golden chair caught in a web of deceit...

The birds were gossiping, she heard a few, tell stories of her evil intentions,

  her involvement in crime...

She shuddered at those words...

She could see the malice in everyone’  s eyes, she could feel their hatred resonate the entire kingdom...

A hundred flatterers, a handful of  men with marriage proposals, a constant threat of death drove her mad...

She was like a dilemna stuck in a web, she decided t find her brother...

She sent twenty strong men to find him...

Dandak went to find them a new shelter,

 Dhorak went to ferret out information regarding Hannada,

 Karma was at home, for it was too dangerous to let himself out,

for they believed by now a bounty was on his head...

Naksha, sat by the fire, karma facing her; she told him her ordeal, how his husband met his death...

She saw him bleed,his head chopped off by hannada, a big bulky man with a bear like hands, he had smiled to see blood flow everywhere...

Her husband had been a cook in d palace of d general,n had been accused of trying to poison d lord...

She shuddered and cried, karma extended his hands, feeling a sudden electricity pass thru his body, a tinge of happiness in him awakened. Twas gone as fast as it had arrived...

That was when she moved away...

He re counted his story so far...

Karma began , his eyes far far away, searching for words, scraping at memories to conjure...

Very few vague memories came, then his dam of control burst n tears began its flood, the last memory of his father floating by, in a pool of blood...

Next to him lay his mother, clutching at her throat gasping for breath..

.he rushed to her and she told him to find "hannada for help " ,

 then she succumbed to death...

Running to his father, he found him dead...d shine in his eyes slowly fading...

Then came d cavalry of men, who somehow knew of d double death, they chased him...

So he ran away, to one place he knew there would be peace...

They branded him a killer...

Cold blooded killer, they did not even let him watch their pyre...

The three then left d kingdom in search of hannada...

Now he talked in gasps of tired breathing, his eyes blood red n troubled heart mourning for d loss of his parents...

For something still troubled him, d eyes of his mother when she told him to find this killer...

Naksha , pulled him out of a disturbing reverie, she looked into his eyes, her eyes full of tears too, she looked for a long time, she hugged him tight...

There blossomed a sense of togetherness in between karma n her...

Karma sister, the present queen of kalgudda kingdom discovered a secret that would stun her forever...

The kingdom of kalasudana, her mother’s birth place...

From there a news came that rattled her very being, karma was not the son of her mother...

Her mother had been so kind to him ,always partial to his belief, always taking his side in argument...

She confided everything to him, she was cold to everyone who did not agree with karma...

She had been instrumental in creating a gap of discomfort between d two...

Now karma’s  sister, Purvamudra stood on the balcony of her palace, trying to make sense of everything...

Meanwhile dhandak miles away in d post city, was caught in d web of d spider

Hannada s torture chamber...

Dhorak arrived with Naksha to the place where the legendary battle had begun,

he carried dhorak to safety , she tended to his wounds...

Dhorak played his part, he fell protecting his childhood friend karma...

Karma bent his knees in despair n fell to his knees, pleading hannada to stop this madness...

He laughed that sinister laugh,

Told him Jabakini, his mother;  was never his mother...

She was the sole survivor of a clan, karma s father s father burnt to the ground...

An entire palace, a entire city an entire mass of humanity in flames, burnt alive all because the fallen fort of ours refused to send all our women as bounty...

Jabakini was his daughter, the last lady of his clan...

Karma said, he knew it all...

Every year on the day of victory march, when the entire kingdom lay in joy, she wept...

She had told him of her gory tale...

There were flames everywhere, karma s mother had watched it burn, his father the general pushed her into a tunnel under the house which led directly to the river...

She had run and kept on running to the river, found it marred in blood, bodies floating, life taken away, her friend without her eyes. Her legs cut floating dead...

Then they poured fuel and burnt them all...

now even the river burnt...

She escaped it all, she swam the entire channel, fifteen years later she met karma s father as the princess...

Magala s daughter kani, was married to the king of  the  kalgudda to seal peace...

Magala had always maintained a hatred for them,

hannada need only tell of an elaborate plan to power...

Rani  Kani waited thirty two years to kill karma s father...somewhere in between those years she had started to love him, until hannada sent her an ultimatum...

She stabbed her husband three hundred times, and called his son for help, she took the poison ready for her...

Her mission in life ended when she told his son to meet hannada and run...

Hannada would cull him...

Daughter of  Magala’ s second wife would get the throne...

Her real daughter had been killed the day of her birth and switched with Magala’s  birth child...

As the sword rested on karma s shoulder, and  hannada culminated his story...

The sword went up high, and came down upon karma s neck..

Then came a piercing cry...

Naksha had pulled away an axe, crept behind the killer, fueled by her own rage, her eyes hungry for to avenge her husband...

She let the axe meet his head, a mass of blood brain exploded...

Karma fell to the ground still alive, but with a scar down his shoulder....

She collapsed to the ground shocked dazed n shaken...

She woke karma up, he carried the final remains of both his companions away...

They disappeared from d map of the world...

The queen’ s hunting party came two days later to the port city to find the land in chaos...

The queen’s men searched every house and inn in the port and neighboring villages ,

They found no trace of them …

It was as if they had hid in a rabbit hole along the way,

The queen called off the search a few weeks later,

She ruled the kingdom for thirty five long years, never once could anyone find her brother,

But she knew his whereabouts, she held that as a secret, the entire kingdom thought their prince had died in exile…

the queen never married, putting an end to a vengeance, grounding the clans to dust…

In her twelveth year as a queen she had met a lovely lady with three kids in a village,

her name was Naksha…

and then she met him, a small farmer back from work, her brother who had long disappeared...

he told her of everything he had done and cleared every question she had except why he had not returned,

and he bade her goodbye,

that was the last time they saw each other again 

....

To measure

We measure weight in grams, we measure length in metres... there exists a metric to evaluate them ! Is there a metric to measure love ? Is there a way to measure sadness ? is there a way to measure lives ? Is there a method to measure happiness ? Is there a metric to measure life s true meaning ?

acceptance

Each passing day,the distance between the shore and the big black ship grew..

my heart remained true to her,
the lady who stopped waving goodbye;
only after she could see the shore as a black dot on her horizon...


She was my source of love,her soft voice still lingered long after the massive beast chugged away in trails of smoke,
My heart longed to see her once again, smiling her disarming smile...

As time went on,I visited every place that held a special bond between us,
no mail or letter of hers arrived for which i waited each week...


Weeks turned to months,months to days,days to years,
She remained forgotten in my history books,a chapter in ruins...

Slowly my heart healed,her absence no longer a thorn in my heart,
Slowly her image too washed away,
Hope of her return faded with each ship that returned,
From sadness to sorrow,then to despair,followed by haunting memories...

after a long while there was acceptance...

For i try to remember her now,picking my brains to reveal the tombs of my old flame,
But alas , i fail to remember her name...

my grandmother

There are very few words i have left to describe this phenomenon, She is always seen with a smile reflecting on her face, She is seldom tired of jugglery in the kitchen, She is a bundle of energy at all times in the day, She is my source of strength in situations demanding courage... My earliest memories of childhood is holding her hands,walking to the a lot of temples, and then having a wonderful icecream, idli vade sambar on the way back... In the afternoon sun,sleeping next to her,listening to stories of gods, godmen and epics, At times hearing ramayana in the middle of mahabharatha... Those are times i fondly look upon with a smile... She is like a kid, even though technicaly she is a senior citizen, Always smiling, always a sport for a joke... She is strong willed, a god fearing simple woman... Yet her influence over a simple lad like me has been greatly infinite... I have seen various emotions draw on her face, elation at our success Sadness over a life s tough choices, Devotion in the presence of god, Tears in times of melancholy... Yet i ve have never seen her in anger, Never seen her shoulders droop by giving up, Never hurt anyone with her words... Even though her teeth are missing now, her bugs bunny style of dentistry is unavailable, She is among the most beautiful souls i have ever known , I shall ever know...

in conversation with god

I was asleep in the coldest of cold winter nights,
Someone started tugging at my neck,
i opened my eyes to check ..there were none to be seen...
 
It was the god of death in his famed buffalo and his cowboy hoop,
he tugged at my neck again,i followed him with ease...
He asked me to walk behind while he sat on that old struggling vehicle of his...

I started to talk,i
 asked him how hell was??
Was hell red in colour??
Was there boiling magma to bath ourselves in??
Did we have to feed ourselves with long spoons??
Did we have television by anychance??
Could we talk to our friends in heaven??was there telephone service...
He seemed amused,irritated and a bit flustered at my barrage of questions...
He answered that it would take another day or two of walking...

I chattered on and on..
was there no other means to go to hell??
Metro trains?? Stairs of red in a background of white??
Atleast a bus facility ?? 
even after thousands of years no development at all, i mused...


Oh no !!
I continued to ask him,if only he came for hauling us back from earth,
would it not get late for the death of all others??

Was there a lottery for death??
parole??
Was it like jail??
Do we have holidays i quizzed??
Then he seemed to lose his cool...
that snorting buffalo of his gave me a death stare,
But i was already dead ,what could it do ????

He went on to explain that in one earth time he could be in thousands of places at the same time!!
Hell was no jail, it had no metro no tv
No red faced giant toothed monsters...

Hell was just silence
Hell was no place for repentance it was just silence..
Hell was that string of nothingness...
Like a dump yard of souls...

Heaven ??
Heaven too had no metro, no tv, no telephone,no beautiful apsaras,
no clouds, no gods too...
That was hell itself...

There was no heaven...

What about reincarnation??
how was that decided, by vote or lottery?

What about caste breed and religion??
did they have separate houses in hell
What about the lives of dogs cats ,fish, rats and countless other things...
would they come here too??
You are a brave soul he said and
 let me go back to my sleep,
 back to my childish little nightmare of hell and heaven 
 conversations with god  himself....

love

Love is there in the living , in the non living

and in mythical as well as mystical existence,

Love is infinite,

love is supreme ,love is all powerful…

Love is hatred,

love is vengeance,

love is gravity s pull…

Love is that sound that a kid makes when he finds his mom after school

,love is d glint in her eyes when she sees him,

Love is a living, floating abstract mass of nothingness

that can drive everyone of us to tears, laughter and cold blood...

Love or the lack of it defines us...

For even the dead were loved, love never dies with the passing of life,

Every soul is a lover, was once loved and is in love…

Love is true, love is false ,

love is truly light, dark and grey and every colour known...

Love is the magic in the air when your loved holds your arm,

love is a pocket of  the universe given for you ...

Love is the flight of a bird injured flying to feed its young,

love is the soul of tear that elephants bid to the dead of its own kind,

Love is the blossom of a flower, offering its nectar to a hungry bee

Love is the pull of gravity,

love is the smell of rain, love is the power of silence in free talk,

Love is feeling of bliss,

Love is abstract,

Love is all humbleness...

Yet love is unknown and unmeasured,

Unparalleled in its simplicity

Love is.........

my first love

She was tall and slender,

Waving her arms to me...

Into the arms of my most loved lover I jumped and embraced long...

She was sweet,

Butterflies flew to her in search of honey,

She voice so angelic,

The nightingale sung chorus to her melody...

With her arms to the sky she danced in the rain,

Time seemed so rich in her presence..

Draped in a velvet saree, with her rustic smile,

her down to earth mannerisms, her firm resolve and

inner sweetness she swept my heart again...

For every year she comes to my household

bringing rain to my barren heart,

joy , my heart sings as my childhood sweetheart comes back to my life...

In verses of prose I’ve tried to describe you,

 failing which I’ve fallen for you…

Deeper into my thought you have travelled,

 leaving footprints of affection…

In times to come,

I wish your journey continues with mine...

Ps: she in the poem refers to sugarcane and no one else

Any resemblance to characters in real or reel life is purely coincidental