A NOTE.UNANSWERED.

Dear You,

It has been long since we met. I lost those pink slippers you had gifted me . I could not find more of them. Get me those when you come.

Did I say I missed you ? You were supposed to come over, right ? Did you forget ? Or changed your mind ? Or is it something else ?

I got your flowers on time. Come over as soon as you can. Bring some warm clothes as well. I guess its on the upper shelf of your wardrobe. And please don’t make a mess if you can’t find it.

I shall be waiting for you. Maybe we’ll plan something.

Yours,

Me.

Comments

Me said…

:)

All your posts are sweet surprises.

December 11, 2011 at 12:31 AM

Thousif Raza said…

sweet innocent lovely :)

Take care and keep writing........

December 12, 2011 at 1:16 PM

Rià said…

So innocent and beautifully done.

December 12, 2011 at 5:59 PM

Nidz said…

enjoyed the write up

December 18, 2011 at 12:31 PM

Phoenix said…

I found tears running down my face... i dont know why... maybe i saw a bit of me here...a bit of me that has lost iself in the sands of time...

January 3, 2012 at 3:57 PM

ILLUSIONS OF REALITY...

The more you point out my mistakes, The more you are drawn towards me. The more you try to hurt me, The more you bleed in your heart. The more you run away from me, The more my memories haunt you. The more you want to forget me, The more you are reminded of my presence. The more you want to chase me away, The closer I come to you. The more you hate me, The more you end up loving me. The more you call me an “illusion” The more I dawn as the reality of your life….

A C R O S T I C

A s I was walking , C hoosing the hues of life, R ainclouds made an appearance O n the sunny sky above. S cuttling through untrodden paths, T he narrow bylanes,not a soul around, I was indeed lost - Drops of rain C hased me - but Ahoy! a way was found. P.S. :My first attempt on acrostic poetry.Hope my readers will like it. To know more about acrostics,click the link given. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acrostic

CONFESSION OF A WOMAN...

When I'm born,I'm jeered at.When I'm a child,I'm made to believe that my reason for existence is somebody else.While I'm growing up,I'm discouraged to question.My brain and heart are numbed.I cannot die too,since it will bring infamity to my family.People would say,"At this age,what could have forced her to terminate herself ? She failed to materialize her fantasy.Such bad morals." I fast for the well-being of my father and brothers.When I outgrow my frocks,I'm let off to another household.There, I work for others, without pay.I have children but they treat me like a door-mat.Here too,I fast for my husband's and childrens' long,peaceful life.When the man of the house,who happens to be my "husband" dies,I shed a part of my soul.I have no right to live then,I just breathe and sit in a corner.Rest of my life is spent in praying-for death.They say, "Woman needs a man.In childhood,its father.In youth,its husband and in old age,i...

FranKophone

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