People turn to perceive love as a fragrance, spreading from a new bud; Which blossoms and turns into beautiful flower in each passing day But the same bud coarsens and falls apart from the stem, No one realizes the phase
Two stars partially shrouded with clouds, Standing in the terrace to behold the glimmering horizon, That was Sikkim. Days after the torrential rain, And death People’s bodies were beneath the debris, And trees Be it heat or frigid, poorer dies.
Last few glimpse of a lying soul, Was seen behind ten heads Oh! Life, Is so uncertain Gains Maya when alive And attains Moksha ultimately Pride, prejudice, love and sacrifice What’s the point when it means nothing? Afterlife? Who can
Fresh smell of wild herbs in the perambulation uphill, Oh! Those clinging burr to my dog’s fur, I remember the sound of the crushing dried leaves, That was heard in a walk through the dark dense woods, My uncle lived
Few moments of life spent in your arm. Few seconds of weird thoughts caused no harm Few seasons of prolonged fights And a brief glance of beautiful sights, Are what I shall carry as a memory- A memory with numerous