Friday, November 8, 2013

naturally . . .

I keep a pile of words
on your sleeping eyes,
which then start playing
with your rhythmic breathe.
When you wake up,
trap them with your smile
and put them on your
yet-to-finish breakfast table.
Let the morning sun
savour some meanings.



Once, by listening to the wind,
you said that I'm also with it.
And when asked
how did you know about it,
you just started telling about
your journeys on the wind in return.
Not sure if the wind did smile at that.


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