Doodling on the misty window

She wrote what she lived for

Her canvas occupied

With the memory of him who died

He was her reason

For all the mystic creativity

He still is the reason

But for this void cavity


When the shone bright

The mist was gone

Her canvas

Crystal clear

As blank as her mind

His memory fades away

He tries to leave her

Like every day

But she halts him

And waits for the

Next day


She tried everything

To make herself cut the string

which kept them together

but she couldn’t

Not every day ,destiny gives you another chance

Not every day, you get what you want

There was a guy who

Saw her every morning

He was a reader

And wanted to read her

He was adrift from others

His stupidity made her smile

With this he covered another mile

He taught her the reality

She never wanted to face

He made her live her life

For a day

He made her pain

Flow through the ink

Ink she hadn’t touched for months

He not only became her inspiration

But the happiness she waited for…

He is her new day


Next articleThe Expected Ingredients In A Love Story – Indian Cinema.
From the Origin of time many rise and fall like winter weeds, My identity could not be revealed by anyone, My identity could only be revealed if you know me well. There isn't any great mystery about me. What I do is glamorous and has an awful lot of white-hot attention placed on it. But the actual work requires the same discipline and passion as any job you love doing, be it as a very good pipe fitter or a highly creative artist.


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