Reasons are few. Unreasonable, mostly.
Expensive even, Oh! Very- Telephone bills.
Arguments of Logic cease to exist,
Becomes rather Roman-ish, you see.
Sense & Sensibility? Not so, I should think.
Scenes of dragons and knights in armor
In the backdrop of a sky,
Roaring and thundering.
Classical. Quite so: this thing called Love.
Smell apples and vodka on his breath.
It's like a match. Strike it against
Another life,
And illuminate that desolate corner.
A house. White one with picketed fence.
In the midst of paddy fields. A horse
Is a must. And a Jack.
10 o' clock. Dim lights and
The sound of feet.. pit-pat pit-pat p.......
Pasta, wooden tales, old fashioned latches.
I soar, and soar high up, beyond the skies
Carrying with me, some
Diamonds and some Rust.
I grope, I can't.. I fall.
It ends. Bittersweet, perhaps,
But love. Love all the same.
(photo courtesy: reetika ghosh)
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