In the cobbled old streets of my hometown
In the relentless rains of London
In the sandy beaches of Goa
In the cold and dreary castles of Scotland
On a hot air balloon in Turkey
On a camel ride in Jaisalmer
On a safari in Corbett
On a trek in the Everest
In the mist of the Niagara
In the midst of NY
I’ve fallen in love a myriad times
For you see
I lose my heart to places, not people
I fall in love with moments, and everything around.
If there ever comes a time
When I don’t remember who you are anymore
Then just dance with me around the house
And give me a sunflower
You asked me once
How long forever was
I know now
It’s a second without you
“Have you eaten?“
“Text me when you reach home?”
“What are you upto, cutie?”
“Haven’t seen you online in a long while, all okay?”
“Guess what happened today?“
“You’re meeting me this weekend. Period.”
Love resides between the spoken and unspoken
Love survives in all things big and small
Love pushes us and pulls us through
Love teaches us the meaning of life
January came and went
Like a gust of cold air
Chilling yet refreshing
Jarring your very bones
But a wake up call, if you’re listening
February, in turn, promises to be
As full of love
As we want to believe
Upping the heat
Like a welcome reprieve
After a lifetime of being bound
By the promise of love
I’ve now come to realise
Love is free
Love is freeing
Love is freedom
In this and in every other language
Neither here nor fully there
And yet, somehow, everywhere
Subtle and bold
Never doing as it’s told
Young and old
Sometimes warm, sometimes cold
Love is what love does
Love does what love is
And binds us all together
Burnt fingers and some bitter coffee
Three wick candles and a dog-eared glossy
A warm smile and an attitude that’s also a little saucy
Are my favourite wrappings for a cold, winter morning
I no longer press flowers between diary pages
Marking important events
To be forgotten for years at end only to fall apart as dust
No, I display dried flowers in vases all around my house
Quite proudly
Wilted and shriveled yet capable of beauty
They no longer need to be locked away
Into secret corners of my memories
And when these flowers start to disintegrate
I turn them into pot pourri instead
Spreading their fragrance anew
It’s ironical
Isn’t it
How identical
We are
For I love to crush on you
Even as you crush me
Moonlighting Scrivener 