You are the smile on my face
You are my beautiful days
You are the curtain swaying in wind
You are the fragrance of summer in my mind

The mist on the ocean is you
The red in the rose is you
The wrinkles on my bed is you
The maroon on my lips is you

You are the golden eyes under the sun
You are the green grass on my shirt
You are the bed-sheet on my chest
You are the shoulder on which I rest

The pillows on sofa is you
The pictures on the wall is you
The flower vase with lilies is you
The hammock in the balcony is you

You are the air I breathe
You are the dreams I saw at night
You are the light when I am low
You are the love I did not know

And now that I have found you, I am all you.

Summer- Scarecrow

Every year during summer holidays my family took  a trip
To my ancestral village where my grand parents lived.
It was untouched beauty,  stopped at stone age
Pristine and primitive, just how god had made.
Every morning after breakfast
My grandfather and me went for a walk in the wheat fields.
Rows and rows of golden wheat  danced in the wind
Captured the horizon with their golden faze.
There was a scarecrow that lived at the center of the field
Tethered clothes, hands stretched,  a crow sat just on top of its head.
It seemed , the crow was challenging my grandfather.
The old man picked a stone and gave it to me,
Asked me to throw it at the crow, I almost felt like his trainee.
I did and did and did and did, but the crow refused to leave
The stubbornness of the crow angered my old man.
Infuriated with anger, he thought of other measures
Looked around and found an empty bucket.
He fetched bucket full of water from a close by well.
And with all his might he threw the water on the crow.
Drenched, the crow cawed and flapped his wings
Soaked in summer bath, it gave my old man an ugly grin.
They looked into each other’s eyes
Neither of them was ready to give in anytime.
After a while, The old man gave up and called it quit.
He held my hands and turned around,
Sad and dejected, as if he had lost some championship.


I remember the sultry heat and the empty roads
and the orchards where , the cuckoos echoed.
Not caring for the audience, unperturbed she sang.
Sometimes happy and sometimes blues,
Very persistently, she performed her show.
She played hide and seek with me, only to win all the time.
One summer day, I went out to look for her
Spent hours and hours in the forests.
But couldn’t find her, couldn’t see her.
She stopped singing for me, the forest got quiet.
And I stopped in dismay.


I decided to go back home and gave up looking for her,
Sad and dejected, I sat under a tree.
A moment later, something flew over me and it was her.
She dropped me a present.
Just like Santa dropping it under the Christmas tree.
It was dark, long, silky and  slender
She gave me one of her feather.
As I picked it up the forest came to life.
%d bloggers like this: