A cup of coffee in the morning is
A soft rebellion, gentle bliss.
It speaks in steam, it hums in sips,
With dreams still clinging to my lips.

It’s not just warmth inside a mug,
It’s time slowing down for one small hug.
Before the world begins to race,
It brings me back to my own pace.

A fleeting calm, a breath, a start—
A quiet stirring of the heart.
A cup of coffee in morning’s grace
Is peace poured into time and space.

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I waited for you like
the stars wait for dusk—
with hearts aglow,
and love in husk.

Like petals wait
for morning light,
softly blooming
through the night.

I waited for you like
old letters wait to be read,
like a song in the attic,
softly sung, never said.

Like footprints fading
on a forgotten shore,
still hoping
you’ll come once more.

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SHREYAS IYER – A Silence After the Storm

S-So close, yet the distance remained,
H-Hopes built high were gently drained.
R-Rivals roared, while Punjab stood still,
E-Even courage bent to fate’s will.
Y-Yesterday’s spark now quiet and bare,
A-Amidst the crowd, a heavy stare.
S-Shreyas struck like a blade through night,

I-In his calm, there burned a fight.
Y-Yearning hearts watched in despair,
E-Every Punjab fan whispered a prayer.
R-Runs don’t always reflect the pain —

But passion, like Punjab’s, will rise again.

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V-Victory wasn’t handed, it was earned with fire,
I-In every heartbeat, roared a warrior’s desire.
R-Runs flowed like rivers off his silent blade,
A-Amidst the noise, his calm never swayed.
T-Twilight games, he stood like dawn’s first light,

K-Kings aren’t crowned — they conquer the fight.
O-Over the years, mocked, but never undone,
H-His passion burned brighter than the summer sun.
L-Legends are made in moments like these,
I-In red and gold, he danced with ease.

-

Sunday mornings are golden hush,
Soft light spills in a velvet rush,
Curtains swaying, kettle hums,
In sleepy hearts, the stillness drums.

They wear no clocks, no hurried shoes,
Just barefoot hours in drowsy hues,
The clink of cups, the scent of toast,
A sunbeam stretching like a ghost.

Books half-read with coffee stains,
A jazz tune drifting through the panes,
Hair undone and laughter bare,
Peace curled gently in morning air.

Sunday paints in pastel tones,
On sleepy skin and silent phones,
The world slows down, the soul begins,
To breathe where quiet truly wins.

A bloom of calm, a soft reset,
A canvas where no rules are set,
In every pause, a small delight—
Sunday mornings dress in light.

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June drapes the earth in linen skies,
with sunlit hush and amber sighs,
the breeze writes songs on open skin,
a softer world it draws us in.

Lavender leans through fencepost dreams,
gold slips through cracks in forest seams,
daisies wake on fields of grace,
while time walks slow, with summer’s face.

She tastes of peaches, rain, and thyme,
of barefoot hours out of time,
a page unwritten, bold and blue—
there’s nothing quite as rare as June.

Evening hums in shades of wine,
with fireflies threading dusk’s design,
and in her quiet, glowing tune—
the world feels whole beneath the moon.

-

“Bas good morning/night tak tha… Ab toh ‘khaana khaya?’ chal raha hai

-

Me: Trying to sleep.
Brain: Nah, let’s do dukh dard overthinking — starring every worst-case scenario.

-

“Life is the spell
the universe whispers
in stardust —
a fleeting enchantment
where dreams
wear skin,
and every breath
is a shimmering
piece of forever.”

-

कहाँ जाए कोई अपना दुख बताने,
जब सब लगे हैं बस खुद को जताने।
हर चेहरा हँसता है दिखाने,
अंदर टूटता कोई नहीं दिखाने।

हर बात यहाँ टलती रहती है,
सच भी अब छलती रहती है।
किसे परवाह है दिल में क्या चलता है,
हर कोई बस अपना मन मचलता है।

मैं भी कभी ज़ोर से चीखी थी,
आँखों में तूफ़ान सी टीस थी।
पर हर बार सबने यही कहा,
“अभी नहीं, कुछ और काम बाकी था।”

दिल की आवाज़ कौन समझ पाया,
हर रिश्ता यहाँ बस निभाया।
सबने सुना, मगर यूँ ही गुना,
किसी ने भी मेरे दर्द को न चुना।

अब खामोशियों में जीना आया,
अपनों से भी अब डर लग आया।
कह न सकी जब भी कहना था,
हर बार लगा — कौन यहाँ किसकी सुनता है?

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