When We Shall Meet

(c) Shilpa Sandesh

Sitting solitary in an urban cafe,
Wooden ceilings and glass walls,
The planchments so breathtaking,
As if straight out of the forests,
My gaze discovers out of nowhere,
It's own engrossing theme,
A pathway,
Numerous striking blocks of concrete,
Alluring to my tired sight,
But,
My beloved,
To my love smitten eyes,
These are not merely the cement blocks,
To me,
These are like our moments,
Well planned by our destiny;
The pedestrians,
Walking on these blocks,
Are like the rough moments,
That we face,
During our charismatic adventure of togetherness;

I write these words, sipping my favourite hibiscus tea,
Taking off my wrist watch, I keep it in front of me,
Soon to find my thoughts abruptly diverted,
Enticed by the ticking of the second hand,
Moments bygone and hours passing,
Falling short of breaths, life decreasing,
And the only thought accompanying it,
Is that instant,
That second,
When being alive would be accomplished,
When we shall meet...... ... 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Feet in Blood !

(c) Shilpa Sandesh Her gaze is set, At the wide spread ahead, Lights glimmer, Racing motors on the road, And noises undefined, From far away; But no landscape can collate, With the bruised patches, in her heart; No motors are at par, With the speed of her hastening thoughts, And no clangor as loud, As the shrieks of her caged soul; Blaming is like, Plucking the petals,  of a blossoming flower, To take the blames, Is like being pushed, To walk bare foot on thorns; It's a puzzle, it's a jumble, Her inner self is, Disarrayed, cluttered,  It's a muddle; Those moments are no more, When she was, Besotting to his eyes; When her tears made his eyes wet, When seeing her in pain, His heart ached; She is a reflection, Of the fate's rebound, In the broken mirror; She walks, On the scattered glasses, And Oh! My feet are in blood!
Read more

A Puppet

(c) Shilpa Sandesh Born a free soul, With wings to fly, Bound she stands, Entwined in compromises Tethered are her hands with the strings of liabilities, Muddled are her steps, in the lashes of limits and boundaries; She loved once , with all her heart, The tenderness and fondness, that's doomed today; She smiles when she's sad, And cries when happy; The tiny wonder, Is her sole sustenance, All that she has won, as the fruit of love; An emotional fool, And destiny's blunder, She calls herself, The hell's wonder; She craves for that warmth, that unconditional love, A whim for those vows, a desire for that embrace, And, In the hands of time, A puppet she is, In the fate's haze!
Read more

My Brave Knight

(c) Shilpa Sandesh Handsome and pleasing, Like some prince, In a lore, A striking sight, He's my brave knight; Sanguine and certain, Commanding and sturdy, furious yet calm, Like the glistening sun, And the stars so bright, He's my brave knight; A warm embrace, A gentle heart, Resolute and steadfast, Aiming the dart, With a scrupulous sight, He's my brave knight; Audacious and fearless, Valiant in the stormy winds, And the winter's chill, The searing sun, Or the rainy nights, He dauntlessly steps forth, Heroic he is, He's my brave knight.
Read more