There are days When dreams sneak behind the door That has been unopened for ages Gathering dust, nonplussed With the storm that it has weathered. There are days When the little voice Can't stop singing Coaxing the dream to peek through The window and look... Look at the luscious blue There are days Read More...
As the call of the conch shells Burns through the evening, The orange light pours in, Dissolving the listless longings In the ferocity of its blinding light, Pleading to turn its watchful gaze On the sight both spectacular and strange. Sparring mortals converging into one, Overlapping shadows Read More...
The faded scars on the inside of your hand Hold on to the recipes of generations. Carefully passed on From one arm to another, Whispered into dreams, Marinaded with care: The hallmark of ingenuity, Grinding spices with dexterity. Concealing every fault With a gentle sprinkle of salt. The perfe Read More...