Skip to main content

You and Me


It was a sunny day when I first saw you.


A day when the chill crept into my bones.


But when the sun shone, you glittered like a diamond.


I was already torn—by wind, by land.


Something I would always reach for, but never attain.




Even in my roar, I could hear you—


singing like a warm hug on a chilly day.


Even though it was the fate you feared,


You were always meant to be mine 




Maybe I never knew my own might—


as you  watched me , I soak up the sun.


You were gentle, shining beneath it.




And then the day came—


when your laughter turned into my roar.


Fear kept us apart,


but you came a long way just to be mine.




Where destiny cannot tear us apart—


I am you, and you are me,


said the ocean to the stream.




When the ocean roared in ecstasy,


and the stream danced in its charm,


two souls sang the ballad of their lives.


I saw you grow and fade.




When you lit up the night,


you never knew it was my love.


I saw you, and the sky turned crimson red.


Was it longing, or love, that painted it so?




I felt my wait was over


when I saw you at the horizon—


my heart burning as red as fire.


I saw you rise, and me drifting apart.




Maybe destiny can keep us apart,


but I will be the light of your life,


said the Sun to the Moon.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Timeless Chatters

  The love still whispers close to me— a tender tale, not taught, but free. It first appeared in blushing hands, then kissed my heart like drifting sand. From youthful laughs to lonely cries, its echo danced beneath the skies. It flickered on—then dimmed once more, a fate that knocks, then shuts the door. The tale moves on with endless grace, like snowfall’s hush on time’s own face. It passed from friend to fleeting flame, and I from child to youth became. It’s how I walk, the path I tread— a tale of love that’s never dead. The clock of life keeps ticking slow, through secrets only old hearts know. And in the dusk of lust and dust, the lamp of love betrayed its trust. With frozen hands and silent mind, let’s choose, instead, to just be kind. For time will come, and time will go— but still, the tale runs soft and low…
Post a Comment
Read more

A Letter to the Love of My Life

Love struck me more times than I can count— but this time, it felt like heaven. Winter shut its weary doors, and you stepped in, a blaze of summer light. I talked too much, you smiled and listened. Neither of us knew those fleeting moments would rewrite our lives. You stood beside me— the most beautiful soul I’d ever seen. I stared, like a stargazer lost in constellations. We’ve ridden the rollercoaster, held on through the rise and fall. Loved like each breath might be the last— perhaps that hunger kept the flame alive. You gave up all you knew, just to walk beside me. You faced storms, even danced with death, to give me the rarest gift of all. And when he giggles and people are astonished, I would say— It’s nothing but a stardust of our love. You saw me cry, small and unguarded. I promise— you’ll be the last to see me that way. Years slip past, oceans in between, but when you kiss me in your dreams, I feel it— a sweet giggle trailing down the back of my neck. I may not be the best ma...
Post a Comment
Read more

The story untold

It takes a lot of guts to tell a story. Being old won’t stop me from that—after all, it’s just a story. When Uncle Abraham spoke, I could see tears running down his cheeks. I asked him, “Have you ever regretted anything in life?” “Beta,” he said, “either someone is lying, or they’re a fool if they claim to have lived life without regrets.” When I was young, I never understood what regret really meant. But now, I know how heavy it can feel. A proper goodbye can soften it, ease the sting a little. But you don’t always get to choose who you say goodbye to—you just assume they’ll be there forever. With his shivering hands, he lit up a cigarette. He was so particular about it; he always rolled his own. The Macallan splashed over the ice, and with a sip of that, he began his story. Maybe you could call it a story of regrets—but I like to think of it as a story of experience. Because those regrets, those moments, shaped the man he is today. Oh! I forgot to introduce us. I’m Sangeeta—of course...
Post a Comment
Read more