A place called home (Micropoem)

By


When ; 
Memories no longer beckon, 
Ticking clock refuses to pause, 
Mirror shows the stranger in it, 
Empty racks tell a tale of their own, 
Broken windows don't reflect the joy hidden in their crevices, 
And life just refuses to smile..... 
That is the moment when that place is no longer home. 

Popular posts from this blog

Metro Diaries: The Art of Making Love

By
Image
Image Source: Unpexels (Cottonbro) “Do you know why is it called making love?” He whispered, pulling the comforter closer.  I don’t remember for how long we had been in that room, on that bed. Lying aimlessly, just feeling each other in silence. I managed to just whimper to denote my curiosity.   “Because that is the moment we create love. We are the closest we could ever be to love, in its purest form. It is sheer magic as we are naked, in every form. Mentally, physically and emotionally before that one person, we love. We know they can hurt us, as much as they want to, in the way they want to. But love gives us that power to trust them, that they won’t.”   “And here I was thinking it is a need. Something you want at that moment and you get it!” 
Keep reading »

What is love?

By
Image
The moment I hear the question what is love? My answer always is this. Love is.  Those two words hold the entire meaning of love for me. When I was asked to write about my own version of love, my mind instantly ran to the nearest rescue I could find – music. For me, love is music, a song that your heart dances to and a rhythm that has the capacity to capture your soul. Love is the language of the universe, the one in which one soul converses with the other. 
Keep reading »