Saturday, October 30, 2010


Petals, in my pages.

The scent of a scene.

The road is taking turns,

In misty expectation.

In the air wafts


White blooms from northern land,

Why do they smell so?

On a winter’s day,

There is always chai,

Masala and Elaichi,

Standing in the middle of

Intersecting memories,

Floating petals, and

Wilting trees.

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