The dews of floating memories lie threadbare.
A spoonful, a handful , a palm full of pixie dust,
Can it keep me afloat?
The "I" in me has been struggling to breathe,
It's been constantly shown what it disbelieves.
"Is it so easy to undo memories?", A prudent laughter jerks me out of my photo album.
A feeble breath escapes forming loops of realisations,
The miniscule laughter of a gap toothed girl stares at me ,
Her eyes seem to question what have you made out of yourself!
I am not alive to undo what has been a part of me.
I might have outgrown my sleeves, but haven't yet outgrown what has always been me.
The lessons that grandpa vowed by still run in my veins,
The aroma of grandma's dishes still linger in the dishes I cook,
The cracking sound of my rusty cycle comes alive as I run my finger on my scarred ankle.
The warmth of maa's caresses still keep the old knitted muffler warm.
This is what makes me sans who I pretend to be.
The Shiulis of my garden has taught me this,
There's an October in each of us,
That teaches us acceptance.
Part of us would suffer the test of time, yet a vibrant part would always be drenched in the sweet fragrance of memories.
Autumn has bid it's opulence, the harsh winter would be soon unleashing it's wrath
October, benign as always is preparing us to be warm
To not undo but to hold on,
To hold on to those moments which are beautiful
To hold onto people who keep you at ease
To hold on to those things which make me more me and less you
A detour, as I see it.
Isn't it strange how love binds people who are polar opposites! I have always believed love to be a faith which grows deeper each day as it is based on trust and the ability to hold on just like the waves hold on to the sea. The story is about two love birds who got caught in the web of love. He resembles the morning sunshine, shy yet bold enough to fight past the night's gloom. A deafening silence engulfing his soul. She is a tempest who gave his silence a shattering jolt. And just when the word impossible could have defined the bond they likely could have shared, the word split itself into " I am possible!" and a possibly, "I am possible" love story took birth. What interests me is the way they stand together, I have seen them fight, seen them suffer but that suffering has it's beauty of it's own where one cries and the other feels the pain (Okay, that was a cliche!) I was always attracted towards stories which had pain in the sense that it mad...
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