Eternity lies where the fragrance of home takes me to the stardust of your memories falling stars. Let it be me wishing for them? Rain on me. In the mirages of less travelled paths, be the scarlet! Let me write sonnets finding you in those lost lines, mi Amor! (Read Caption) I really want things to change like seasons. I want a little bit winter on my left shoulder, so when my nerves burn, I caress them without letting them smolder. When my right earlobe shivers, thinking about you, I wish summer on my either side. Sometimes I don't like my autumn cheeks, so I let the rain cloud over my eyelashes, the petrichor on my skin rejoices every bit of solitude like the uninvited grey clouds, today the clouds passed over my temple and I sat in my balcony, the zephyr touched every part of me, telling its tales, of how it has taken someone's poem to become a sonnet, longing to reach a story. It's been raining here, like the comma we left after questioning, Are you coming or not, we never got the audacity to put a question mark after that coz we always wanted the other to continue it, and we left it without answering it. Like the warm tales of winter, I waited for weekdays when sun bloomed from my handcup, knitting hopes in your remembrance. I fetched the memories of night, ploughing the moments as shelter. From Drive safely to Reach Home safe, we travelled along the tracks unknown to our dreams, until the lantern of hour dozes off and Talk to you soon played coincidences, lately with, Isn't it strange! for all the meant-to-be conversations. I wonder what made you fall in love with writing and me falling for you. Isn't it strange? You never told me anything about your favourite writer and I never told, it was you. You have a way with words, you said.
