The missing lock...

There came days when she couldn't stand them. They stared at her sadly, as if they had heard her midnight screams. And sometimes when the sun barged in and disrupted her dreams, she woke up to their rude grins.

The favourite book....

“You are my favourite book,” she had declared to him that morning. The evening before, he'd travelled all the way to another state just to see her. On a bike, riding for nine hours. It felt like a story to her, no not the fairy tales which were just gruesome tales wrapped in glittery paper. 

Silent words

“This seems just like a movie set!” she exclaimed.

He laughed. Thinking how even little things excited her. It was one of the qualities he loved in her. 

But he wouldn’t tell her that. As always.

And it was called yellow...

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“There is an excess of yellow in the world,” he said.

“Huh? What? "she asked

“I think that the colour yellow is in abundance in the world. It is dominant,” he said.

“And why do you say that?” she asked, while dusting the sand off her kurta.

“Look around and tell me in how many places do you see the colour yellow?” he asked while taking her hand.
                   

The Dreamer's city

In the city of seven islands,

that which never slept,

but still managed to dream.

That which worked like a man,

but was beautiful like a woman.

That which the sea protected,

But could also destroy.

The city that moulded into you,

But made you like her.

The city which she loved,

But he never met.

In this city of seven islands,

At the place where land and sea met,

She waited,

For him, who had left,

For the dreams that set.

She waited

P.S- This poem was written on a serene evening at Marine Drive,with nothing to do except let the words fill my mind.