Skip to main content

Sky Shots Dobara...




The wheels remembered the path, the taste, the aroma and people around there, were acquainted. The taste in those pots remained same but with a lemon twist. The serving and the members had a slight change than the initial. The count increased for squeezing those sliced lemons but no salt on the nose this time. The tracks which played in the atmosphere added a different texture to the shade of our thoughts, it was not a party, not a celebration, but a get together of our souls, of a relationship, a friendship with those one-time sips. Those whom we missed the previous time, this time they added a flavour, in those pipes and on those empty glasses. It was beyond everything, and without these fellows, it was hard to ever get such thing.
We repeated the location, the road because in the previous frame everyone did not fit. The initial was good but the repetition was the best, it's not the last or the least. We will crawl on that path with those loaded seats since we are the beasts. 
Everybody might be working differently or they might have fled, gone, 
but we were, we are and we will be the seven stones.
I am sorry if I missed out anything because for me you are all and the everything and by mentioning you all in these words and presenting your all's presence in these sentences I don't need anything. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Seabed...

Racing the rotation of wheels. Making it early, to be safe from the rays of that raised temperature, a thick hide from the sun. Yet, we were running late. Hunger striking hard in the middle of the way, where the maximum distance was yet to be measured.  The far the eyes went was the sky welded without any joint with water.  The blue hue of the sky reflected sharp on the water. But the shade was darker when we got in. Shoes stuffed tight but were placed right. Naked feet making the impression by disturbing the sand.  The initial of letting the feet taste water was changed with a spark. The sand looked prettier when it was beneath the feet but not when you were beneath it, with your clothes. Even not when it becomes hard to dust it out from the skin and dripping clothes. The dive, the fight with those waves revealed strong. The buds, cells were flavoured salty. The impression of the feet was blown away as that of many others. The unintelligent...

A Mommy Day...

Even before the brightest sphere in the universe rise, she stood before him wise. Without any gadget, habitual to her subconscious. Slow with her crawls, she completes the chores, without our knowledge all day long. She never got a leave never did she asked one. Neither on those second or fourth nor at the ends of weeks, none on those with those bank holidays. Never even when she broke, healthy.  She had a magic, power which is concealed deep within the word 'MAA'. The only name, which came out with fear, with a concern, first of all, the only name in every hunt. She survived hard for us and has been derived out of those gods and goddess, clone to us. Simpler with looks, but intelligent beyond those tonnes of books. Still innocent for that technicality. Despite modern remedies, she still has those 'nuskhe' for initial and to surprise they though work.  She, the most easier to convince, the one who hide our mischiefs. The one who can divide, among several a...

A tea tour...

Tears of the noon of the past year rolled down through cheeks at the dawn of the new year. When the chilling breeze pierced eyes without hurting the dreams. Such dreams are the needs like dew on the grass of all the desired wants. First sunrise of the decade after two odd months. There was nature, with drama and short of time. Nothing was special, neither great not luxurious, expensive except for one. Resolution was unknown, the reality was faded, the expectation was routine home headed. Default to the season sleeping was the reason, not when experiences were best, why to imagine the rest. Sweetness overflowed, salt was missing from those, defaulters, everything else came softer. Everything started where some had ended something. Where reality dreamt of living like us someday. From bad omen to sight, of owl’s flight, even the spirit of jungle dint thought of disturbing, when the voodoo doll was the knight. Time was, a handful of dissolving sand yet, in every particle a me...