Smelling kitchen Dried bathroom Sleepy bed Talking living spaces And the listening rocking chair Or rather Listening living space And talking rocking chair I weaving the flowers along the tread And you trying hung the one On the door step Mine wet hairs dripping rains to your face Your eyes complaining to the sun rays Peeping through the dancing curtains of your favourite shade The petals of the Daisy trying to escape the stem And run away with the wind Shutting the choas inside I run into the neighborhood The thrash can is full With my scribbled thoughts, dripping from one to another And with the wraps of your food licking one and every around them And the space from outside feelings so tempting I run in and fall on to you Your chest, my head Your buttons, my hair Your towel, my smell