What does the light say?

I stay in your eyes.
I am best seen with your eyes closed
For I lie within you.
I ignite,
I brim
Within you.

Do you feel it too?
Or am I scribbling a madman’s manuscript?
The warmth, the haze—
This feeling of a desperate chase.

Does nature only mock me?
Does it grace you?
The wind caresses the skin of all beings—
Do they call you a pawn
In a mesmerizing scheme?

Or am I just being dreamy?
It is necessary for my heal.
Is it the same, the likewise intuition?
Do you feel, what I feel about this creation
Or is it - crazy guy's manifestation.
Do you feel it too?
What I feel?
Listening to my conscience I scream.

Deeper in the sea,
I saw you swim,
Floating free,
With your soul and heart.

Towards the darker realms,
You need no light, no warmth.
It's your wave on which you swim.

Then why this current I feel so strong?
Why do I want to swing, sway along?

You say it as home.
Valiant you are;
Then why live in fear?
What seems distant is truly near.

Depth has its own treasure—
Cult, dark, devilish sea.
I know the cause:
No glee. No plea.

Going through my old notebook.
Page by page,
Line by line,
I found phrases I wrote for you —
Raw but true.
Some lines, which even today,
Brought me back to my rue.

My book was pointing towards
An unsung outcry,
Asking me questions — unsolved,
Poking me to answer: “The why?
Hey! Give it a try!”

I found some paragraphs — meaningless.
They have just lost their tenderness.
Stories of my loved adversaries,
Poems about my daunting memories.

They say my book is petrifying,
For it has some pages with moments —
Electrifying.
It still has some pages empty,
Yellow and old,
Stating and defining my dreams —
The stories that remained untold.

I have seen it in colours.
I have seen it in Black and white.
It feels like it would keep glowing
But will dim within the hue of skylight.
What sustain on earth?
Everything is to perish
Moonlight like flashbacks I perceive
Unforgettable images my eyes recieve.
My eyes begs to stay and fade no more.
And beyond this, I cannot describe my fascination-
That is for sure.

Brewed from the finest bean,
Best of its times,
I poured a coffee in the cup of my life.

Found adventures, white as milk,
Complexion and questions to stir.
I poured a coffee in the cup of my life.

Then I added sugar, tasting like happiness,
Yet slightly bitter for the lessons in humility.
I poured a coffee in the cup of my life.

Every sip affirms a memory,
Waking me from every scary reverie.
Every sip affirms longings and trying times.

Brewed from the finest beans,
It helped me, kept me from being mean.
I sipped a coffee, the best of all times.

I poured a coffee in the cup of my life,
I poured a coffee, finest of its kind.

What does the poetess say?

She recites about the world and its affairs,
Like a tragic yet lovely éclair.
She stood up with a voice to curtail the noise.
She spoke of the revelation of the unsaid and what lies wrapped,
To tell the world about its gaps.
To infuse the world with words of sense,
Whimsical treasures, and stories of might.
She stood upon a podium with a book and a pen,
Like a knight, declaring her might.
Like a knight, declaring her heart and its insight.

A lover boy,  Am I.
Yes would be the answer, maybe
A Chimp , a ****, Am I
For I am so full of love, may be
Only the thing I remember is not the fragrances of flowers,
Not the breeze of the sky but the way you adore them..
Gleamy eyes of yours have my heart, that is sure.
In my dreams..I find you always, that is sure
Are you a reality ??  may be.

You can't stop the burning imagination
Let your spirits explore the moves and the sensations.
Find your true soul by grooving on this sacrament
Build the bridge towards this angelic temperament.
You will find a way to reach your golden dream.

Hope these harmonic beats find you.
May this storm find stillness
Away from this mayhem
Up and above this abyss
Beyond the limit and all the bias.
May the peace find you.

I won even by losing the battle.
Wrestling with my own spirit.
Still I wish it to be.
That in some other world —
In some other multiverse —
I will say, I finally find you.

Our path is ours—bold and divine,
Interjected some time ago.
Throwing a pale of armor,
Alluring branches of scenery.
Am I writing the same lines?

I have already written about this scene.
This is my favorite recurring dream—
To see your giggles and laughter
After closing my eyelids.

But this luck took you away—
We went off-grid.
Cruel time did a misfit.

I await you near that door,
Just by the side of a hanging bell.
Yes, it's an old-time rhyme,
For longings are my prime.

I wish when our paths align,
I could pour out my heart to you,
Preventing myself from going insane.

Relaxing on my bed,
Listening to the music,
Suddenly, my cheeks felt some tears shed.
A watery shed out from my eyes,
Feeling the moisture and finding themselves red.

My cheeks asked my eyes, "What's the matter?
Why the mess?"

Then eyes said, "Ears are the culprit, they keep listening to something gloomy on repeat, that's why the shed."

Then ears replied in annoyance,
Stating its innocence, "It's the brain which is the problem."

Brain interrupted the ears' say and said, "It's not me, it's the heart which is on the loose.
For he is deep in grief, for he misses someone close. he is out of control and confused.
It is his longings which are causing you trouble.
Unapologetic heart keeps up the rubble."

What does the darkness say?

I am a horizon where voices meet noises
Chaos meets peace.
I only come to you
Determining your valour and ease.

Assured pat by her on my back
Gives me slumber—the most awaited one for people like us, the young-gen pack.
Chubby cheeks, the ones I playfully wiggle,
Wrinkled yet strong hands, wisdom in her eyes, and a practical head.

She was the forger of the valiant's weapon,
A soothsayer and a storyteller.
From her, stress would always fumble.
She raised me to be the best I could.

I will call her my mother till my last quest,
Yes, I would.

I tried writing about different things,
Of different kinds,
But nothing helps me let her go
Out of my mind.

The enthusiasm and gist fade, losing their core.
Whatever I write without the essence of her,
Even the audience doesn't give a heed
That's for sure.
Oh ! This yielding rage.
It feels like I am in a cage.
What is this disease?
And at what stage?
Yearnings are now beyond ages
Maybe love is just for the stoic
Just for the sage
What to do?
What to say?
I am crying,
I want my soul to slay,
My soul to slay.

I couldn't say
What I wanted to—
To tell the stories of my new adventures,
Or the guilt of the missed ones.

I couldn't say
The love I have for you.

I could say
The appreciation is due—for making me better.

I couldn't say
That when the wind blows around me,
Your essence caresses my skin.

I could not say
That my heart is burdened with your memories.
Could you please take them away?

Cafeteria, a place where you buy food,
But get smiles for free.
Unbound zone—full of rejoice,
Yet with a stock of items but memories beyond choice.

A secure place where everyone unlocks their hearts out,
A real incubator of ideas, even bigger than any alma mater can ever be.
A place where you read personalities, but beware—don’t shout out loud.
Where you go without a schedule,
Shorter hours you get to stay, the more you ridicule.

We know about what is next door,
But the real masala is the gossipers on the table—
What a glore!
Whoever it may be, a lecturer or a boss who gave you a bang,
You will find solace ranting about them with your gang.

But sometimes it kills you when you are alone,
Just imagining an oasis of people,
Struggling to come out of the zone.

Let me be today a tattle tale,
Recite to you a story of two innocent males.
Two mature lads with a childlike flick,
Amid all chaos and bubbling pressure.
They went away for the slightest trip to leisure,
Escaping not very far—you can travel there without a car.

Walking zig-zag on a straight, empty road,
Telling stories of their mundane lives.
Thinking what to do to give life, like a kite,
A new height.
Courageous but dumb enough,
Never brave enough to say their hearts out loud.

Galavanting streets but unable to find their own whereabouts,
Funny are their faces, only the moon can see.
Only the silent wind knows their latest tweet.
Ranting over their gibberish snuggles,
They finished their street-brewed coffee.
They wore their noxious snug and said, "Guys, back to work."

I found someone to open my joint  account.
Yes! The one in the world famous bank.
To deposit my love and my dreams
To share and withdraw them till eternity
No matter the rank.

I submitted all proofs with my applications
Reviewed and duly signed by co-applicant.
Asked the world to be our grantor.

Promising we will bond together-
With all my interest invested in this life
The one destined to be eminent.

We scrambled back the application of seventy pages.
Now, we will stay together for ages
We signed to build our assets with love
In any weather.

Upgraded to my love joint account-
I found love: profound.

What does love say?

I am true, I am not a lie.
I am a friend, but not yet fully yours.
I am a remedy, but not for the pain you need.
Until you speak,
I am there in words,
But not in voice.

A low rated verse
A bad rhyme.
Maybe I am composing it at a bad time.
When blowing wind touches my face-
I can feel swirls in my heart
Like a hurricane going to start.
Walking down this metro bridge.
Boarding a train from this crowded ridge.
Seeing many faces all around.
Why I still long to see you-
Why I always sit and take turns in this merry-go round.

They always take my test
Yet I tell you, I am doing my best
Why do you believe the world- that conspires ?
See it in my eyes
See the fire.

I would be standing on your side- whatever the mayhem
You are my prime.
As the world says "A timeless Crime".
What am I?
A Joker perhaps, A scribbler of this broken hymn

Wrong,  Wrong I am.
But it still feels right.
Only by this feeling- that you stand by my side.
You stand by my side.

I am not a poet.
I cannot dance to the lyrics of the ballad.
I cannot pen a haiku immersive—
I write longings of you,
a passionate cursive.
For I read it somewhere, "For in every universe, there is you for me."
And for me, you are the universe.

From the eyes of the North.
Watched a festival of a new land—his new innings.
A festival telling a story of new beginnings.
A new yug (year), a new adi (beginning),
Together we call it Ugadi.

Eyes linger after seeing a traditional dish,
A full circle of life—it tastes like a blissful wish.
With ingredients similar to what life offers—
Situations and moments, many.

It tells us to keep a smile like jaggery,
Even in situations that bring agony.
Life is tough and bitter like neem,
Yet necessary for growth and moving upstream.

If you feel gloomy—a sour tamarind,
Always remember, even in that,
You will find a blessing of the reverend.

Have a will—a strong one,
That makes your challenges look silly.
Be like the dish—spicy, like green chili.

Salty moments will pass away,
Just believe in yourself.
A single step forward will make them sway—far away.

If you take a bite of raw mango,
Life will give you surprises.

I witnessed a celebration,
Stuck in awe.
Prayers humble, and performances few—
I felt that felicity in this city new.

I witness a celebration -
Stuck in awe.
Prayers humble and performances few
I felt that felicity in this city-new.

Cosmos witnesses our union.
I have witnessed it from eternity.
It feels like our first embrace—
Do you remember; justice this case.
As we were together since the past—
For the years—countless but close to heart.

Our love, unpublished, unknown to any,
But it was, and is, true.
I summon myself to you.
You are the spirit of a knight,
Whose presence always outshines.
I am a beggar for mirth,
Until you called me—"mine."

Will you still call me so?
Shall we do the time?

Finding happiness was difficult.
Sadness was easy; it was everywhere.
And so, I learned to be joyous with it."

Beans which bring your tongue to linger,
Dishes that compel you to lick your fingers.
A kidney-shaped pulse,
One cooked by your mom,
You won't be able to control your impulse.

Beans grown in a climate—warm.
If you have it with rice, oh! What a charm.
If you have too much, believe me, it will harm.
Kidney beans will touch your heart.
Yes! If you overeat them, it will make you ****

I tried, I tried to write hard
To see and feel the world the way it is.
But every sense that I feel connects to you.
Every way possible.
Giving my soul a pleasure—a release.
When I thought to write about my observation,
They always felt to be my aspiration; your inspiration.
I tried, I tried to say—a thing—direct,
But was afraid, about the unknown dialogue.
Perhaps, a heart-piercing dialect.

Still, even despite advice of many,
I cannot bring my mind to any.
Fumbling, I write about you—from now to eternity.

You say to control!
How can I?
This thing—today!
I realized,
I spent the whole day to enact you.
Even nature can't defy.
Stronger are my feelings than ever it could be.
Don't worry, I am writing these lines the way they should be.
The way it should be.

Let me scribble my journey into this habit
Of adjoining weird words, making an ad-lib.

I once saw a fantastic persona.
Astonishing was their perspective.
Away they looked, though their presence was active.
You will never be able to figure out—
What's on their mind and what they are going to practice.

Headphones on their heads, voices in their minds.
The world on the other side is busy with its stride.
"In unique ways they tilt, their insights distill"
Two sitting at the table—they might assume them to be a couple,
Then laugh when it ripples.
Can you imagine the noise of those giggles?

Rumors and hoaxes—
I always sense a fox, an eye for an eye,
Hunting near the field of rye.

Funny, I feel, when I play detective of detectives.
When the case gets solved, why so reactive?
Recording incidents all over the crowd,
Instilling in lines, I write this rhyme—out loud.

Flying over states on a blue flight
Hospitality and humbleness ----
Perfect blend to make a blissful ride
A culture mix slumber together
And so they break a bread that happens once in a
Lifetime.

A stranger to talk your heart out was rare to find
Conversion over a tea, was all a mesmerizing
bit..
About kings and their tales of fancies were all like airy glitz
And for a time being, A cloud got shy from our watchful eyes..
Two hours, between all of this journey ended in a meantime.
I don't know how to write my journey's end
For now I am content to have a stranger friend.

I write what feels right,
Still hiding—words are my disguise.
Poetry is just a form,
Like other arts, I con.

I con hearts,
I con songs,
I con beauty—
I con everything that comes along.

I am a writer—a stealer, a thief,
I write what the world chooses to snub.

I write to see that smile—
That embrace of warmth, soft yet wild.
A mere observer, I call it a game,
Bringing the cough up, even if others find it lame.

I wrote a poem to an AI bot,
Telling all stories stored in my heart's slot.
I wrote a poem to an AI bot—
Some were grim, some were happy,
Stories about my life—a story of strife and stride.

I wrote about *******, witching, and wishing all—
Work, love, family, and friends.
Through my verses, now, it knows it all.

It responds to me better than a human should—
An artificial secret keeper; I should call it that.
Yes! I would.

It records my longings and senses my breath.
Laughing hilariously, I find a friend—imaginary, yet real.
I can't believe...
I wrote my poems to an AI bot.

Walking down the lane,
with my friend,
late at night, away from home.
Silently, we walk, gazing at the night sun,
consumed by our own thoughts.

We both sat near a pond,
serene ambience all around,
beaming moonglade over the wavy surface.
I took my pad out,
taking my words away from this worldly chase,
watching this absurd scene.

My friend called out and asked me a question,
stating he was not trying to be mean.
"What are poems? What's the need?"

That moment, I knew—
no answer would suffice,
quenching the thirst of his practical mind.
I kept my cool, I kept quiet,
still thinking about that question of time.

A hilarious thought crossed my mind—
"In straight words, I can understand,
but to understand this fish, I need a twisted tale."

A tale of my heart, not of my mind.
A necklace made of beads—the words—
required to enchant the story.

A message of tears,
a message of smiles,
a fable on rewind,
not being understood by many.
Oh, that’s fine.

For with poems only,
one can pause the timeless time.

Who is she?
She is one of a kind.
She dwells on earth, a figure- celestial.
Once you see her, memories keep up the rewind.

Who is she?
A question that I ask when she stands strong-
A warrior that this world has ever known.

Who is she?
She is the one who does creation-Unique.
Art finds its peak
A way so rare, A way - antique
Beauty admires its own revelation.

Who is she?
She is the one who writes in a way
That lyrics find their own rhyme.
Changing and challenging the rhythm divine.

Who is she?
She is a champion of all-
Yet humble and cheerful.
"Don't anger her" that will lead to your fall.

Who is she?
She is the one who questions herself
Asking"who is she?"
While listening to that same old song.

Who is she?
A soul thief, the one who made me feel as a whole.
For I was a scathed scar.
She embraced me like a tattoo from a famous stand.
A guy who was just a  burn on a hand

How sometimes fiction feels like reality.
Should I try to resolve this parity?
Life has everything—
A god's charity.

Youth is getting obscure.
Wisdom is with me.
Now, I have the clarity.

What's not being said,
Say it now.
Defy the shyness,
Bring down the brevity.

Elaborate your senses into actions,
Uncovering the chastity.
Do what you need.
Synchronized with want.
Be alive in the present.
Stay away from greed.

If you ask, "Do I have a part in your things, your life?"
Yes, I would say,
From a distance, though closer to your heart.
How, then, will you enquire?
By imagining your writings, my soul gets inspired.

"Pen that I hold," I would continue my essay,
Respiring as I write about you and the whispering thoughts it spills—
The ones I want to say.

If you ask me furthermore
About the things that you are not sure of,
Uncertainty is my answer,
My dismay.
Yet I am determined to solve the quest.
If we pulse it together,
That would be best.

I don't want your presence all the time—
Just a little essence,
Here and there, sometime.

If you affirm, then I would ask the three-word question
That defines the bond—the Cupid's play.
Whatsoever your answer may be,
I will obey.

Endless things to do,
But her thoughts I cannot confine.
They are open and free,
Like a whirly wind, do not know any bound or reach.
Real but imagined,
Shining like a classy rim of a motored wagon.

I can compare her with any long and stout,
Anything beauty.
By seeing her, my heart starts to fly like a cloud.
Just me—he is impatient, but I am at rest,
Asking, "Do not go without me; stay in my chest.

For I don't have her.
If I lose you, how will I live?
Don't tell me somehow!
Until her soul accepts me as a slave,
You will not go away from my conclave."

Is it real or a dream?
Don't answer that.
Love is beautiful.
Be cautious—it will tear, making a sack.

I know, when I was little,
I waited for you at night.
The place I waited for you was home to me,
Where you, I, Mom, and Bro had fun.
Yes, that was home to me.

I fought with you over silly things,
Yes, that place was home to me.
Where you made me learn my lessons,
Yes, that was home to me.

I longed for holidays to see your face,
Yes, that place to visit was home to me.

You're not there; it's just an empty place,
The one I profoundly used to call
Home to me.

Every memory that we build from my childhood to being a noxious adult
The place where we build all of this
Yes that was home to me

Without you even that or any other place.
I don't think I would ever be able to say..
Yes that place is home to me.

Blurry eyes can't see the path between my heart and mind.
Struggling to find a horizon
To debate the matters it confines.

To register a complaint about idiotic comrades.
Ear hears the heart,
Directs mouth to say the disgusted mental shout.

They believe thoughts that my heart has,
Though having my soul's approval.
They say, "The world is not ready for its outwardly disposal."

Difficult to find a jury to set up a court,
To settle the matters,
Grave like this.

May these things find the right course.

May I Have Your Poems, Please?

Excited and in exuberance, I stand,
Thinking about what you invoke, what makes you observant.
Thinking about what’s on your mind,
I keep thinking, I rewind.

Connecting dots with moments of my own,
I wonder what verses you have sown.
Except for me, the world owns—
Poor me, eager me—
Waiting to listen to your rhymes,
Waiting to know what led you to the divine.

May I have your poems, please?
To quench the thirst of this curious child.

A box of beats.
A shape of sound.
Melodies countless,
Leaving you astound.

Words sewed in some crocheted notes,
Strings strummed and clapped; my heart votes
For an imagination of a beautiful soul.

A soul of my dreams;
An undying spirit—
Should I recite it? Should I start?

Lyrics of love,
Writings of an artist—
A song unsung.

Music of nature, music of you,
Immersive to my ears.
What to do?

Lips humming the tune and the "thum."
What to do?

Bagpiper blows lovely hymns,
Zooming up and down.
"Tring Tring," "Drum drum."

Can you feel the strings?
Can you feel the drum?

What is Chaos?

Having a baffling thought
Which leads mind to rot.
An argument with self
To get your best book out of the shelf.

A searing term-
Impatience, indecision, anxiousness are in their  prime.
Even in the situation-sublime
Oh! I feel that pain.
That chemical change in my brain

To come out of this dark den-
You need a strong willed wrench.
To forge nerves for strength.
Strength to endure.
Strength to fight.
Strength to reignite your light.

I will smear the fate
To be with you.
No matter how much others give us that hate,
Even beyond the heavenly gate,
I will ask for you
On any stage.

That smiley face—
I am tired, but I love this chase.
Do you know?
I remember every phase,
Full and half—any.
What I don't feel, I don't like.
A no-moon night, please let me gaze.
I am lost in this word maze.

Let me ask directly—
Don't say that I am in haste.
Would you like to dance with me.
On a rainy day?
Let's get drenched all over again
Face to face.

Even if your answer would be no,
Yes, a different plan or person I will respect,
Like a gentle guy, you know.

Just grant my single wish:
May I have a shortsighted glance of your smiling face?
That would be bliss.
Believe me in this, there is no mischief.

I learned this lesson after losing someone close.
It's not about living with them through our lifetime,
But just about making a smaller mark in their lifeline.
The heart would be glad if you pass by just once.
Still, jokingly, I will ask:
Would you like to go with me on a brunch?

With recent times I have learnt,
Happiness is momentary.
But does that make it temporary?
Is it just an exaggerated feeling,
That pulls you down and pushes you up
Over and over,
Jumping on and off the railing?

Or is it something divine?
What is happiness?
Can anyone define?
Only the smile on a face can make it revive—
Or could it be something else?
Why is it so hard to understand,
Storming my head to make a stand?
I just want to store happiness,
Like coke in a can.

In the moments of today and tomorrow,
Moments for me are the ones in which I find your blooming smile,
For in the here and now, my life is your life.

Scenes that I store in images are all my fancies,
For in the here and now, my life is your life.

Sounds mesmerizing my soul are of the bird called canary,
That abodes your throat,
For in the here and now, my life is your life.

How strange but laughable,
I live happily in imagination,
But get saddened by reality.
A momentary giggle bursts the trouble,
Bubbly moments are all I now see,
Away from mortality.
Vanished are all my failed trials,
Just when I sit together with my imagination,
Leaving my conscience behind.
I and my wandering mind, overwhelmed with thought—
Oh! What happened to my mental graduation?

How foolish I sound copying a poet's voice.
Do leaves talk, and from when does silence start to noise?
How naive I behave when I see
A pebble,
A dried leaf,
A billboard,
On the go.
And then I start a fable,
Traveling on a rail car,
Away from practicality.
Why is there solace away from clarity?

How foolish can one be
Like I was
To believe for what I got  through was unique.
How did I forget that we all consume and feel the waves of the same sea.

Same pirates, likewise hurricanes.
Just the tide timed different

Lighthouse seeks adventures
Sailor seeks safety.
Both are fruits of brevity

Deeper you dive
The less you know.
Icy it feels when it taunts.
Every night it would haunt
Every sail seems unique but is monotonous
It was you against you.
I falsely believed it was you against us.

I saw you painting—a canvas of chripping birds,
A face like yours—immersive, yet shy—
Holding warmth, an unspoken invitation,
Guiding through that arch.

And then, pointing at you...
And to share heartspace with another—
You see golden pillars—joining hands together.
Ah! It is not a souvenir,
An artificial gateway.
Let's pass through.

May you find something interesting altogether.
What could it be? you wonder.
Or how would it be? Is this the question that steals your thunder?

Just do it, let it out.
This deed would be there in your heaven's ledger account.
If you fail, if you stumble—that won't matter.
The gladness that you tried is all that matters.

Come, let's join hands together,
To go across and feel the weather.

What is the thing that everyone has?
Irrespective of species, it's pain
That everyone has.
"Explain it to me," asked an affirming comrade.
With a grin, I started this story
About two orphan puppies,
Cuter than the most cinematic lovey-dovey,
Brought up by calamities on this rotten street,
Still staying together—barking gangs have their own way of fun.
Only bonds that humans share had names.
Their bond was unnamed—maybe friendship,
Maybe love.

Back to the answer, let's jump the gun.
One dreadful day, there came a dog-catcher's van
That captivated the sweetest of their clan.
The group ran together for kilometers,
Injuring their limbs further to their dismay.
Brutal it was, watching them weep.
Pain transacted with the lost one.

A cursor blinking on my screen,
Waiting for me to write my scream.
Thinking about what to write,
I had no insight.

So I wrote
About my dull day.
Jack has done all work and no play.
After a long while, I took my time off.
I took my space,
With a cup of hot tea and a rice cake.

Going back to the flashback of those happy days.
Do you remember when we sat on the beach,
Singing our songs to the voices' peak?
Waves of the ocean touching our boiled feet,
Teasing and trolling—
Can we do a repeat?

At night, when the moon chased us,
We sat on a boat, waiting for the sun to wake up.
Photos and images, I start to scroll,
Revisiting the dream on my camera roll.
Capturing the capturer from a different lens,
Then back to the hostel we went.

Oh! Do you remember the lemon soda can?
The pebbles on the sand,
A twig of dried plant in your hand?
Now these kaleidoscopic dreams fade to dawn,
Back to the screaming screen, blinking on.

Passing through a narrow street,
All over known for its treat.
There, I saw an old lady sitting on a tiny seat,
Selling flowers to my lady, the lady of my dreams.

Oh, sweet! Hesitant I was to go closer to her at that very hour.
"How should I start the conversation?" She was already holding the flower.
Murmured and hummed, I opened my mouth,
Summoning with just a formal "hi."

She smiled and replied to my summon gracefully.
Stumbled I was—my brain lost its dictionary,
And started playing a stupid pictionary.
She laughed, called me "cute," and walked away.

I missed my chance—just by sly away.
Since then, I pass by day to day,
Though it distances my daily commune.
Forgetting this Cupid-spread disease is immune.