A flavor for the sight.

     The dark chocolate charmed my eyes; my finger pointed at it before my senses could realise. A handful was stocked on to a cup. My sight moved on to make a little dressing to it and chocolate seasoning can only be the best aseent for a chocolate treat. Rainbows, chocolate chips and the chocolate sticks were the ones that met its caliber. After the little travel through the ice age, i witnessed her eye's disillusion. I managed to untangle the words, "Why is there chocolate everywhere on the cup?", i smiled at her and  replied in reserve, its not just on the cup.

its all around you...

“I don’t wanna see your face” were the last words that came out of the mounting frustration. Her eyes looked blurred, I checked mine, and it was her tears causing the distress. I stormed away, wondering why it didn’t happen the better away. I looked at myself in the rear; the sun shined beside and mine didn’t. The extra grown hair restrained the light beneath. I took a stop at the saloon. It was brimming with the weekend crowd. An elderly person was leaving the place as I settled on a seat in the waiting room. He pulled the door with all his might and appeared before the mixed pile of slippers. Since the age and the numbers failed his sense of matching, he stood there for a moment, puzzled. I continued observing him. His best solution was to wear the same side of different pairs.

The limping movement took him minutes to disappear from the door’s frame, and I felt guilty. Minutes passed and a lady appeared searching the ground; an old lady. The old man emerged from behind, still drooping. The doors resisted the voice, but the light revealed. She had come to find his match, and she was the match.

 I opened the text page, sent her a “hey”.

this,that and her...

You are always given a choice, and I made one. She happened. The sun woke up, she did, and that’s everything I need. Mom prepares, I eat, she ensures, and that fills up the meal. The walk, the wait at the stop, a quick meet with her, begins the day. A travel nap, the recursive dream, and ‘her presence’ that replace “the dream “, carries the day. The ease back seat, air cooled ambience, her two line text, sets me up on the lane. The way back home, the walk against the path, and the day’s summary with her defines the purpose for the same. The pressed sheet, the soothing head rest, her last wish, makes the day granted.

When high hopes end in vain,before the first tear takes birth, her touch on my palm, drains the moment away. When I take a step ahead, the praise loading my head, her words for me, brings back the “me”. Miles apart from home, the audible sound of the wavering trees, the pleasant atmosphere around, misses the part in me. Faced a thousand moments, felt out of the place in hundreds, and when I held her hands, she pulled everything close. A smile from her, the words she conceives, and the lasting second make my life live. Things happen for a reason, at times not for one, but whatever it comes under, with her, everything feels head over the heels.