I wish I could live in that balcony next door to you where the pigeons
sit. And I could see you through a window and hide when you look at me.
I can wait for you to come home in the evenings and wait for you to
search for me with your eyes…

Am I just living in fantasy..? but I would die if not for these…

“Wish you were here” by Pink Floyd is playing.

And then it seems.. rainy days … we can walk to the seashore and you
would gently slip your fingers into mine.. and we wont speak.. we would
be lost in dreams.. our bare feet will make prints on the wet sand and
wavelets will come and touch them.. then the froth will die out even as
we watch…

Then we would just be lost and lost and lost forever in
dreams.. and we will play slow music that kneads at our insides and
keep dreaming… we wont touch.. we will dream of touching.. and i
would steal your fragrances and thoughts to keep me company at

then we will write meaningless poems.. in languages we don’t
know.. and we will let the papers fly.. or make paper planes out of
them .. we will write in green ink that blots on the paper.. because we
like imperfection sometimes..

or we will make sand drawings and leave them there to be erased by the breeze..
because we like fading memories..

then i may cry and you may not notice.. because we like not being noticed
when we cry.. or you would smother my tears with improbable kisses..
kisses that happen only in dreams..

so .. we would walk into a ruined big palace with dusty
floors… and our feet would be bare.. because we want to feel the dust
on our feet and we want the smell of the dust in our nostrils..we would
let the dampness chill us to our bones.. and we could so easily reach
out and hug but we won’t .. because we know the beauty of distance..
and of longing..

in this dream.. there would be no people except the invisible ones that watch in silence…who have spread their own dreams on the ground for us to tread on.. so we would tread softly..

and the endless sea will make note of our sighs and gift them to her waves.. the cold palace floors, the mossy walls and the hope of a sapling that grows out of a crack in the wall.. we would grasp these fleeting moments of hope and let them away again.. because we like letting go…

then i would sit so close to you ..the warm scent of your breath so tangible..and i’d …

… sit in an unreachable distance and write to you..

5 thoughts on “Ramblings

  1. You are an artist with words. As I readthe words… my mind could conjure up images… literally visualizing the writeup. Superb piece…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s