of wait and destiny

Now a days
She does not come running
to tell all that
what she normally does not mean.

Evening falls
neither she comes
nor any of her messages.

Now,
when she is not there
the meaningless words
she uttered several times before
start taking shape
on the walls,
on paper,
in thought.

Those words become lyrics
and start humming
in the wind
sometime they fall like rain
some other time
like poetry

In a deep corner of thought
wishes start sprouting
night falls
neither she comes
nor any of her messages.

{quite a few people asked me why I name this blog "SHYAMALEE"
though I need not justify the name, I feel shyamalee is the women in me. And I wish to express me i.e. these women in my best possible way. I find it easy to reflect through poems. In fact, to be truthful, I lack any other means. Udayan Vajpayee's "Kuch Vakya" has a deep impact in me. Often, I take his words for granted in my poems too...}