Sea, the poetry
She the poem
Sewing the love and waves,
Sits the poet at shore

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Either a blessing or a choice.
Fresh breeze and sunrays bathing you,
The birds welcome you,
As the day is yet to start.

But who needs a blessing,
when you can make a choice?
A choice, to curtain the windows,
To ignore the sun and snuggle into blanket
To have a monologue,
"if only I had a motivation"

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Mmm.... Nobody


"I'm so perfect, that there's nothing to roast about."
Boasted Eddie, and a giggle surfaced from behind.
"Ok, maybe few things".
Crash didn't respond, but was ROFL, while Eddie was looking for a stick

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The feeling, "this too shall pass".

An episode of this "too shall pass" passes;
Before you catch a break
It's just around the corner
Like the shrapnel that digs deeper,
And keeps the emotions alive.

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It's the night of lights
The silence taken over by crackers,
And smoke filling up the fog.

I slide into you,
As your smile lights up night.
As I nibble you, you giggle.

Rough me,
For the wild is what I seek.
Slip into me,
Before the night burns out.
Gel into me,
I've been waiting to fill you.

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There's a story that you should know
Its the one that can't be told aloud.
It will be whispers in close quarters
And written in candle light.
While I narrate, be still like candle
While I pause, be curious like the light.

Lend me your ears,
Let me fill you with stories.
Remember! The story has to finish,
Don't drown me in your eyes,
Or fall for the lips
Let me be the narrator.

But, you the wild wallflower,
You cannot be still ever.
You nod, and my tongue slips,
I grab your hip to balance
But i guess it's too late now.

As I land on you,
My bites on your neck,
And your legs around my waist
I surrender my freedom to your breath
And slip into a juicy tale,
The one that can't be told aloud.

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Probably...On a rainy day,
When the only thing you long for is not chai

Or

When a song, off my playlist begins,
And I let it play to some beautiful moments.

Or
On a rainy Sunday, with only song and tea to company,
I still nod unbelievably, to her giggles.

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Probably it was during the summer that we first met. God those cheeks were edible. Like she was made out of milk, and slipped when held. She couldn't smile. To the faces we made, to the toys we bought, the best she could do was a smirk.
Before she was given a democratic name, before she could correct us, and before she started growing as a choco stick; we had our "Ladoo". My first toddler tea partner ❤️

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When I feel lost
There's a breeze, that locates me
It holds me, and guides me back.
I still wonder,
How she spots,
That I'm lost?

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The first playlist that I created ever, was to impress my dad. The songs that he liked, the ones he sang. He had a playlist all along his life; not recorded or listed, but it existed.Amma never had a playlist, she liked and continues to like the ones with Krishna in them.

It wasn't until her, that I loved the love songs. Unfortunately she also gave meaning to the pathos. But the pathos didn't last long. Honestly, until we change, the track remains the same and the list just grows.
The song that I'm listening to now, rings from a list that I borrowed. This one has me assured, the journey will be longer and the playlist will have mixed tracks.

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