Perhaps,
Life is too short,
to make out...
what could have been
and what did not...
Liberties galore,
The world at our feet.
Why would we still want,
to our childhood, retreat?
simple stories of a collection of little lives... all woven into one larger story and lived each day at a time... the feeling of the cool breeze on my face, and the wind ruffling my unruly hair...the story of watching the sun set over a green hill, beside a dark lake...reflections of moments on a bench, with our fingers entwined into each other's...the feeling of a lump in my throat as my children hold on to my hand on a rough patch on the road...or... of falling in love...all over again...
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Till Death Do Us Part
The faint glow of the setting sun glistened on the ripples of the Jhelum, as the ripples moves away one by one. The wind coming from the ...
-
I observed him carefully as he walked to the door. I knew that time was running out but suppressed the urge to check my watch. I took a de...
-
22:15 2604 2015 Sunday...fresh tremours again....The third in a row... Visions of destruction crowding the social networking sites.... ...
-
মধ্যবয়স্কা ' হোম মেকার '... স্বচ্ছল... স্বামীর রোজগার মন্দ না ...বাড়িতে খান কয়েক কাজের লোক... সুতরাং কাজকর্ম খুব একটা করতে হয়না । ছ...
No comments:
Post a Comment