Skip to main content

One missing piece

When the day ends bad, I'm wary of the night,
I lay down and try to sleep with all my might,
But its not so easy, to close up and doze off,
Coz all the stress in the day isn't quite enough,
My mind wants more of thoughts and retrospection,
More of all the regrets, remembrance and reflection,
This is the time when I need you to console,
Just when I am all but sucked into this huge black hole,
I miss the most what I never had and always wanted,
Someone to make me feel less scared and daunted,
Someone to rely on every day and day-after,
Someone who can bring back all the lost laughter,
Or maybe just share with me in my quietest silence,
And help me count the imaginary sheep over the fence,
Someone who understands my thought through my eye,
Someone who doesn't talk scold, reprove or lie,
Who asks no questions or explanations,
And understands all these crazy complications,
That plague me and my whimsical, mad brain,
Someone who will never ever fake or feign,
Whatever I need in the utmost measure,
Just for his own gain and pleasure,
Someone who will take away all the hurt and pain,
Without any selfish greed for personal gain,
Someone who loves me more than the world,
And considers me more than just a little girl,
And this is when I utterly pine for the most,
That which I had so unfairly and truly lost,
A childhood gone barren, a teenage soulless,
Just because of a single companion less,
A little tail-wagging, furry beauty,
Who doesn't need any rules or duty,
Who would add an air so divine,
A bark, a whine, a beautiful shine,
To my little house, its windows and doors,
As he prances around on all little fours,
A sibling, a child, a brother true,
To grow up with me and protect me too,
I miss you Oh puppy I never had!
I miss you so much it makes me sad,
And if ever another childhood is bestowed on me,
You, and me, inseparable we shall be,
And while this is not usually to be done,
You shall surely be my Horcrux number one. :)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Internship: The beginning

So I've noticed, and I'm sure you have too, how my blog has no real (or maybe way too little) information about me. It's all mostly a collection of vague poems, deep emotions and disturbing recollections. The reason for the exclusion of my life adventures from this blog is not insane paranoia about my private life, but the general lack of happening events that my life presents. Now that I'm on an intern in Canada for the summers, I thought I'd make this blog a little more personal, and let all you (if there are any) people get a glance at what I hope will be a happening and tale-worthy part of my life. Leaving any space is always quite hard. However, this last semester was like an iron club in pendulum motion, and every time I stood up, it hit me back down, periodically. Bashed and beaten by this semester, the approaching date of departure for my intern happened to be a date I wished upon myself faster, and hence as life is generally known to do, came crawling sl...

What do you wish to be?

They asked me a million times, the same thing over and over. "Who do you want to be when you grow up?", they said. Somehow this question has been a constant safe resort for all the distant or close uncles and aunts I (and most of you, I'm sure) have had. They always are interested in our future plans, though often forgetting our answers within the next blink of an eye. Somehow it has collectively become a part and parcel of the Indian (and now worldwide, it seems) psyche, that a person is worthy of notice only if he's working towards some end, passionately. Another thing is, this question that I fully dissected by gauging the motives behind, the tone of and the way of asking, has evolved into something that needs a 'materialistic' answer. I mean, there's this famous saying wherein a kid said "I wanna be happy" when asked this question, and was thought to be simple and innocent by the adults who most probably returned with the same question a few...

Faraway

Safe in the knowledge, or so it seemed, That things lasted, she happily dreamed, Of the day he'd come back, the day he'd call, Of the day he'd embrace her, and call her his doll, Every birthday of his, she'd make a card, Plaster it on his wall, pristine white paint scarred, Every anniversary of theirs, she'd decorate the house, In the hopes it brought back her long lost spouse. Little did she know, in a village, in a faraway land, Was a prisoner of war, with no right hand, Learning to write with his left, an alphabet a night, For the days brought torture, and his never ending fight, Every birthday of hers, a tree he secretly planted, In the hope that some clean air to her he granted, Every anniversary of theirs, a word more he wrote, In the hope that one day, she'd read all he spoke.