I gazed at the clock, the little hand was at four. It had no umbrella and it was raining since yesterday night. Standing at the door to give me some words, It tried hard to resolve my sleepy voice and thinking mind's fight.
We think too much and feel too little like fitting in a tight dress Or passing through a needle. Stitching and stitching the flesh we wore, we shaped it into beautiful moulds. But somewhere amidst the curls and bends We forgot to just love the souls