Posted in Journal

To 2021, With Love

I did a post back in 2016 summing up everything that went right that year. It was supposed to be an yearly event. But of course, like all my personal projects, none of the other posts saw the light of day. The 2020 one came close to fruition, but it kept getting postponed and then putting out an year end post in mid-January didn’t make sense. In any case, here we are now.

Continue reading “To 2021, With Love”
Posted in Verses

At Crossroads 

At crossroads we met

Weary of solitude

Having trudged long days

On our own forlorn paths.

I saw you across the road

A mirage, a dream long fostered

Of laughter and love,

And you saw me

A mirage, a wildflower,

A haven for your heart.

Briefly we dwelled

In the solace of illusions

Under the summer sun

Red blossoms and green shade,

Whistling to the wind

In each other’s arms

Souls adrift

In breezy gaity;

Briefly we dwelled

In each other’s dreams.

Twilight set in,

Two shadows parted

With stars singing

Quiet requiems for the passing light

As the twinning roads

Again took us

On our lone journeys home.

Posted in Musings


My first love was a fall down the stairs.

One moment I was on top of the world;  carefree, as stable as I ever could be, and before I knew what hit me, I was tumbling down all the way. It was almost like when I spun on my axis as a little girl, going round and round till it made me dizzy, faster and faster till the world turned into a blur of colors, unable to stop myself even when my brain told me I should, finally falling to the ground in the process, head still reeling, heart thumping. Blissful oblivion.

Except that in love, when I finally hit the ground, I had bruises and aches in places I had previously not known the existence of, won in exchange for my dearest  friend.

They say the first love is the hardest. It is. Even if the lightening strike proves non fatal, it’s a long time before you pick yourself up from the mud, and brave the storm home.

I finally did. I went home, got myself a cup of hot chocolate and started from square one. Or tile one. One by one I arranged the little rectangular pieces of my life into the patterns I chose for myself. Intricate designs in exquisite hues filled the floors of my room, my home, my earth.

Until the fall. Again.

It was pure magic. I watched in awe as they toppled over in enticing ways, the bewitching charm of your own undoing; again, the blur of colors, the dizzy excitement, spiraling into a million dreamy waves before washing up at my feet as a pile of mess.

Once you have known that head rush, there is no turning back. I scurry to get going again, more tiles this time, fashioning them into alluring constellations, watching them  crash with ecstatic relish; longer and longer, more colors and decks, over and over, because maybe, just maybe, if I get the patterns right this time, the magic will stay forever.