WALKING OUT OF THE STORM The rain had left the streets ravaged. In a strangely beautiful way. The way love leaves us, Shattered from the
#AnOdeToLove Can we freeze this moment? Right here. You and me, the rains drenching us, Hiding from prying eyes. A heartbeat away from each other.
He stealthily painted the skies, the clouds, the hills and trees and right when he was rinsing his paint brush at the pond, I caught
The bouquet was taut in my hand with a beautiful paper protecting it. Or perhaps, protecting my hands. It was funny! Why would my hands
Grey Old Eerie Brimming with stories If you look carefully, you can see forms, like wisps of smoke trying to enter the house like humans
PEELING PAINT That long lost memory that resurfaces Like a blow on your face, And you are torn between wondering Where the memory has been
Here’s a picture from my walk last week. One day I want to live in a house like this, with French windows and cascading greenery
As I walked into their land, whispers of the spirits couldn’t be missed. They had a story to tell and they would tell it to
The gate. It’s ajar; an invitation. I don’t know what’s within. I can walk in or choose to ignore it. It looks eerie. Slightly haunted.
I look out my window Towards that make-shift gate, I have been waiting, For long and it’s about time. It’s just me, the gate, And
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