Go Back to Sleep

What’s this sunlight outside my window on a cold autumn day,

Is it summer again?

Please tell me it’s summer!

So, I can wear my floral dresses and walk down the streets,

Without fearing the chillness on the tips of my earlobes.

Can I eat a fudgy ice cream sandwich cake for breakfast?

Alas, my weather app says 4 degree Celsius

Or, should I rather say 39 degree Fahrenheit.

Albeit, it’s all the same, it is still cold outside.

So, I might as well grab my comforter

And snuggle deep inside it again.

Cozy on the Edge

It can get pretty scary up there. But finding a cozy cabin house after a treacherous journey on the edge of a mountain cliff will feel like being reborn.

To make it a heavenly experience, drink tea by the window and enjoy the view.

Day Dream

Gazing absently outside the window.

Dreaming of friendly company.

To share this slow day with me.

How wonderful it would be,

To discuss about music, movies, and bumblebees,

While munching away on cookies,

Along with lots of pots of tea.

person in black and white plaid long sleeve shirt having a picnic
Photo by Taryn Elliott on Pexels.com

 

On the Streets of Paris

‘Twas the wretched dream again.

Reminding me of a glorious day,

A time that my memory refuses to forget.

‘Twas a balmy summery day.

I wandered the streets of Paris again.

Where the trees bloomed decorously

Casting shadows on empty lanes.

There were bustling shops selling

Tiny trinkets and many souvenirs.

Parisian buildings were everywhere.

With the prettiest-looking artistic balconies

I stopped a moment to absorb the view

Then, ended up clicking just a photo of you

– A fallen abandoned leaf by my feet.

Kidding,

Dustful Dreams

Yesterday, he called me in my dreams

Strolling in the dark green meadows

I turned around to look at him

Then walked away.

Next thing I know,

He is by my side

Giggling and questioning me with his eyes.

So I stop and ask, “Who are you?”

To which he replied “Your daemon.”

By the Ocean

An old villa facing the ocean on a summer beach stands still.

Three steps take you into the house through a blue colored two-way door, a string of bells hang above it lightly tingling with the ocean breeze.

A white intricate design of rangoli greets you at the doorstep, you step in and walk on the red floored tiles and enter an authentic South Indian home.

In the open hall area hangs an oonjal wooden swing with iron-link chains anchored to the ceiling. The oonjal is decorated with two maroon bolster pillows on the sides.

The swing directly faces the entrance door, when left open, the door acts as a window to the ocean galore.

Tall pillars standing impressively in the middle of the house holding its weight.

The aroma of ghee from kitchen, freshly prepared vadas, and filter coffee drags you further in. Steamed rice cakes continue to cook in the pressure cooker with the whistle going on and off.

Just by the kitchen is an open area with an open ceiling and right in the center of it is a tulsi plant.

Dressed in a sari with a damp towel wrapped around her wet hair, she waters the tulsi plant and does puja.

Two little girls cheerfully run in the open area holding up their orange-colored lehengas and dropping a few buds of mogra flowers from their hair onto the ground while playing.

There is lively banter and cheerfulness in the air. Grandma talks incessantly with the maid while the maid washes clothes just around the corner of the house on a stone slab.

A stairway leads you to several more rooms, a young fifteen-year old girl walks on the corridor holding a book in her hand and reciting poems in her sing-song voice.

Just when we are about to enter one of the rooms, I wake up with a startle to the sounds of loud impatient honking from vehicles across the street. I look out the window and see streets bustling with people and cars, surrounded by tall blocks of boring concrete buildings. I let out a loud sigh thinking of my heartwarming South Indian dream and get back to living the usual fast-paced city life.

adult book boring face
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The Wait

Who would have known

That I would sit here

Whiling away my time

Staring absently at the sky. 

 

Sometimes a honey bee

Breaks my reverie

Sometimes I sip on my tea

Listening to chirping melodies. 

 

Hours fly by 

From daylight to twinkles in the sky

As I sit and dreamily wait

For my lover to walk through the gate.