Letters to U

Dear,

There must be something between us. Everyday seems the same without you- empty. Everyday with you is the same- beautiful. If only my words had the ability to express how I feel about all the little things that you do for me I think I would dedicate a whole book to it.

My dreams express it better. Yes, you were there today. We were standing where you were singing to me yesterday. I was standing alone on the mountain. The setting moon was in front. then you came flying from the moon. Your foot walked lightly on the petals. You walked towards me . . .

Will you walk to me someday like that? I would smile and let you hold me for yours forever.

Yours . . .someday,

M

Letters to U

Dear,

Walking into the deep blue sea I think, maybe now I can feel the way you do. Watching you feel the silence is not enough. I want to hear you whispering to the cold. I want to know how it feels being you, how it feels when my eyes touch you. Those innumerable lines that you dedicate to your unrequited love, I want to be yours in them at least for once.

Yours . . . someday,

M

By Choice

I don’t know for how long I had been crying. I just remember sobbing endlessly under the sheets. my heart was warm, my feet cold.

“Do you ever feel the same when you can’t understand what’s happening around you?”, I asked myself.

“Why can’t we be honest?”

“Is it too difficult to help someone selflessly?”

“Can you share it with me?”

“Does it bother you when you don’t smile back?”

“Am I asking for too much?”

“Why can’t we make this world a better place to live in? If not for all, at least for one who still believes in all that is good.”

I could not find an answer.

Still, I choose to trust.

Out in the Rain

Standing out in the rain

Under the umbrella

Which you had lent . . .

It’s time, I should go back,

But this heavy rain! It won’t let me!

It wants to wet me

                                                    And stain my skirt white,

                    In its poodle, muddy wet.

                                       May be you can come with me

Home, under your umbrella

Then we may have a cup imagesss

                   Of hot coffee or two,

              In this weather

So cold so wet with sweet music too.

 

                                            

                                                                                -By                                

                                                                                Mary Pratima Lakra