On paper clouds Cotton candy winds Dreams dance On wishful wings Of caramel sunsets Melting sherbets Berrylicious stains On azure vistas Silken summons From opal skies With fluid colors In bone china plates A painted sunrise
She wore feathers in her hair The fairest plume, the trendiest air She walked amidst the cheering crowd Her head held high, her stride so proud Beneath the glitter and glamor, hidden Colors, bleak and gray, like the rain Filling her heart, choking her voice Her wings clipped, she had no choice!
Let’s go back to the caves Bury our screams in silence Discard our deadly weapons In the deepest darkness For they fill us with bravado So false, instill us with prowess So misguided, that our world Slowly crumbles around us Just stones, as cold as our hearts
Drowned in brown I am wading through Frothy waves, It’s a bit much This aroma of coffee At the corner cafe; Faint guitar strings Click of Scrabble tiles Or keys on a laptop Clatter, chatter A little laughter Just another evening As the sun dissolves Into another cup Staining the bottom With a rust orb – The circle of life!
Two decades back when coffee cafes started blooming in Indian cities, this was a common sight in the evenings with young people, mostly IT employees, converging at the cafes. It was part of being hep. It could be overwhelming for the loners, yet alluring. Coffee cafes are nostalgic. It signaled the coming of age, of a new, aspiring India that could stay awake all night with evening coffee in the veins.