Green mornings

Of snail placed days

Where every ray

Falls with joy.

These leaves ignite

A lazy breeze

Gently it pulls

And up I fly.

On a branch up high

Of unspoken thoughts

A forgotten flower

Breathes it’s old sigh.

Tasting the first sunshine

Nibbles turn to bites

As the heat rises

Every petal smiles.


Why I hate the afternoon


Do you know what’s the worst part about an afternoon?

Apart from the fact that it’s neither fresh as a morning, nor beautiful as the evening & never adventurous as the night?

It’s a hot, sticky time of the day when usually all you can do is stay indoors, pull the curtains, turn the AC on if you’re lucky & finish your work if you’re not lucky enough.

It’s waiting time – time either spent planning about the evening that’s about to come or spent reminiscing about the morning you had.

It’s that time of the day when you’re already exhausted, though not satisfied to call it a day.

But it’s a safe time. Therefore, usually it’s a sad time.

To me, the afternoon represents this stupid post-youth, pre-middle age time in life.

The carefree morning is the childhood & the youth – full of beginnings, possibilities & fresh energy where you have no idea & not even a worry about what the day would be like.

The evening is the ‘proper adulthood’ as I like to call it- where if you’re smart enough you’ve found a place & company to lean back & enjoy the sight. Or you’ll just spend it reaching back home if you’re a regular joe.

The mysterious night or the ‘pre-climax’ years- can either be spent preparing for the sleep or getting ready for the party where you’ll probably pass out. To each his own, as they say.

So, what are you doing this afternoon?



I used to love getting high,

Thought I could leap out & fly,

Never do I once recall worrying

What if flying would turn into falling.

What was once laughed off as fear,

Is now a way of life & called caution.

Looking up, dreaming & taking leaps,

Has given way to looking down, calculations & breathing deep.