Meeting you amid Roll numbers

Never ending roads
Open sky
Fenced with tall and green woods
Some embracing the chills of the morning
Some in snickers heading home
And a few roaming in their world with their playlist
And then there you stand
Hidden by your thoughts
Hidden amidst your fan club
It was not late
It was just that this time ,
Time had skipped few , few hours
To make someone realise that she was late
But by the watch on your wrist
The crowd around us were searching a future
And a few even making families ,
But of different DNA's
She loved listening fairytales
She loved being part of some fairytales
But she was late to realize that her own had started.
The smile lost in technical gossip, had did it.
The fingers brushing the hair of the dancing thoughts, had did it.
"Everything is meant for a reason"
"Each Person crossing your path has a place in your life"
Philosophy did no good , rather then creating a fuss.
The clock tricking 8:33 AM today
Did it's job of taking her to the day.
The day when she had found a classmate between strange roll numbers.

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Drifting thoughts of 5AM...

Does the silence gets you in future Does the lonely soul feels the presence of that soul Does the plugged earphone tune that voice Does the present wants to repeat those chapters Do that fights are more engrossing ,than those serious talks Does every word on the screen is felt like , 'This is to be stared' Do you star it like ,Mam in school used to star your best art, poem recitation , the curves of alphabet on paper Do you feel like you are queen of those interrogative phrases Do you find yourself foolish enough to check on the never changing constant blank circle on the screens chat app Do you randomly feel like drifting away from your goals Do you hit your head hard , In the middle of the crowd , To break this thoughts and come back to 23 October,2017 And its just 5:21 to think of this silly questions...

The shying words

How do you believe the moon isn't whispering your stories to someone aren't the chance of him whispering it to some writer high May be one of the reasons why you related to the story yesterday on Netflix May be that's how your crushes end up in your favorite color today May be that's how you cleared the interview today How do you know the moon isn't working on his script with your lines If you can believe someone that far How do we end up doubting the skin and flesh besides and around us If we don't hold expectations and grudges when it comes to him Why wonder for years over a message that din come through I don't understand how we whisper our secrets to the mountains and the sea but fear of losing them against the people we breathe with How do we trust the living forms breathing without the flesh over the living we can touch and feel How do I trust the paper with my words and strangers with my smiles With every question I pen I end of writing hope, belief, ...

That morning.....

It was one month to her marriage day Like every morning She woke up to the painting Gifted by someone special, Once made in the process of learning her passion Winding off with breakfast She walking down the stairs To pick the novel For handing it over to him with her morning tea Yes, he wasn't a newspaper addict But was addicted to words and ink No, he wasn't a writer but passion of reading was deeply rooted in him And there was a knock Knock on the door . He was about to open but then she was walking towards the door Dismissing him for the same She felt something strange And there was a face known Seeing that face after years Felt like a shock rather than a surprise Few best things do come as shocks He had just been quite for a moment In the middle of saying- " Would you mind keeping the key..." Alot many moments on the door "Who is it?" And the train of thoughts halted to the words - " Our new neighbour...." D...

Blissfully inhaled and exhaled

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