•The Attic•

I live in present. Present lives in the house. This present will become past after some time. But this doesn't mean that it will be forgotten. I go to the attic. It is the showcase of pasts. I see an old toy car with which I played when I was 5. I see a drawing book in which I painted when I was 9. I see my first bat I got when I was 14. I see shaver by which I shaved for the first time when I was 19. I found the lost duplicate key of my bike I bought when I was 27. I see many presents turning into pasts. I have visited the stories of past that plays one by one, attacking me with nostalgia, the memories. I don't want to go deep because I will be lost. Light evening sunshine is passing through a small hole. Evening vibes are hitting me. This evening is an evening to remember. This is one of the pasts to remember, too in the attic. I will write this in a page and will paste it in the walls of attic, as this will become a past and then after years, I will again write about this past.

-

Posting "love you maa" when it's not mother's day.— % &

-

©aalekh

-

I write as if today is
my last day to live.

And I live everyday
to write about the
last day I would live.

-

"My last Chapati is always yours"~ Mom.

-

•Seems Like I'm healing•

//Caption

-

Bake the love in oven and
eat the parchment paper after it.

This is how love will taste
when it will leave.

-

-

-

I am a shooting star
and you are a model.

I shoot from sky
a picture of you,
but
Oh! You weren't ready?

It's okay, this picture
resides near the colony
of poems, and it tells-

how incompetence hurts.

-