She

She,
She is the reason of the sun's morning glow,
the falling of leaves during a cosy autumn.
She is the reason of laughter on a few faces,
so many hearts' ecstacy and delight.
She is the reason of the sweet smell of dew on grass,
the riot of colors everywhere.

She.
She is the reason to survive.

She,
She is the splash of thoughts dipped in ink, on bits of paper,
the overflow of love now and then.
She is the apprehensive confession of a lover,
the ache in his heart for a mere glimpse.
She is the innocence of a new born infant,
the still silence of the mountains.

She.
She is the horizon and beyond that.

She,
She maybe dust or rain,
love or hate.
Maybe freedom or captivity,
a dream or a nightmare.
Maybe hope, or the lessness of it.,
life, or perhaps even death.

she....


__________________________________________________
to my better-half!! :)

Damnnnn! It has got stuck in the jam...!!
But it will arrive...(hopefully).

I again...

I may be something that shouldn't be there

In the summer evening and winter book fair

The toothless grin on a toddler's face

A child who just won his first cycle race

The smile from a stranger while stuck in a jam

An odd little riddle that you don't understand

The old man's smile for whom you left the seat

The first splash of rain after the summer heat

The beggar's blessings for a loaf of bread

The circling leaves the trees just shed

The warmth in the hug that you just felt

The spring with colours when winter melts

Now tell me truly, am I that bad?

Even if I'm THIS and at times THAT.

I

I am the disappointment in your child's eyes,

the longing in her heart to be loved and to love.

I am the tear that rolled down the roadside beggar's eye,

the shiver that ran down his spine on a cold winter night.

I am the silence that follows after the quarrel,

the breach of trust that brought the marraige to its demise.

I am the demon dancing in your head waiting to mislead you,

the love that pretends to be there.

I am the sound of the crow cawing away, when you try to sleep

the groan of the dying lion.

I am this, I am that,

everything that is a tad bit sad.

I am the mark that scarred you for life,

the desire for anything that is wrong and bad.

:)