Never agreed that I look like you.
The mirror remembers you beside me.
Now, it seems to be truer than ever before, I look like you.

-

Hopscotch continued for hours under its shade.
Gossip went on too, sometimes a break of relief
appreciating mangoey sweetness in sour lives gifted to oneself.
The place smelled of the sweet fruit and the sweeter presence
of those who got to savour it when summer's bounty greeted
the sleepy hamlet yearly. It was a sight to behold indeed.
The first idea of being at the top of the world for many there
was climbing up the study branches of the mango tree to
reach the sweetness that would stay on their tongues for years.
Those who couldn't catapulted their way to the fruit.
Now, it was a revisit to the tree after years.
A mango fell while no one watched.

-

Love poems sleep,
awaken with you
or me? Us.

-

Years of being away
didn't feel long.
We stopped calling
it a long distance relationship
but started calling it
a long distance friendship.
An idea that wasn't alien
at all, just so common.
Times spent teasing each other,
standing by each other made
up the lion's share of our shared
dreams rather than things which
made our shared bond one that
was more than what exists just
between friends. And it felt
fine, nice, light. Stepping into
the shoes of someone actually
feeling it instead of passing
judgements from an observers
viewpoint about how it's just
a fancy term was liberating.
It stirred something in us.

-

A little tiptoeing, some running and lots of yawning~
that's all we did to allay our fear of being delayed.
Still couldn't make it on time, the reason will always remain unsaid.

-

A question I'd like to pass.
Neither you nor me has the answer.
'Why was I delayed?'

-

Minding our own business,
Oxbow lakes of quiet abandoned regret,
Never still, always restless meanders of second thoughts,
Every time we leave behind in life's river, we know we must rethink
Yet the first illusion we see is- only if we had some more money...!

-

Honestly, here because of
someone else.
But now I wish, they were here
because of me.

-

Managing humans,
and now words as children,
out of interest,
and now with grace.

-

News blares from that phone
I know who's him,
while someone hijacks the TV,
there's someone fulfilling the
week's quota of missed siesta.
While someone learns how
to allay being swayed away-
yes that happens so often, so easy,
overarching prejudices gallop
in polished ways from someone
else's lips, yes, sad that it's sometimes
him, but it's just sweet that
when his bubble is broken,
he doesn't mind. Yes, Sunday's
blowing up that bubble
and being ready with an ice cream
to serve him if the prick hurts.
But because it's him,
every Sunday is- all's well that ends well.

-