Sweet Little Lies

A friend and I met after ages,
Hugs and smiles were initial exchanges,
She said-you look the same,
You too- I responded in the conversational train.

Meeting old friends is magical,
In a few hours, we can go back in time,
Recollecting old days is sweet and sentimental,
These trysts of shared memories is sublime.

Later, I thought of the sweet little lies.
That work great as breaking ice tries,
Our attempt is mutual feel good,
And nothing deeper to brood.

But, some words make me ponder,
Changes are inevitable in a decade,
Why do we want to stay the same-I wonder.
Or is sweet nostalgia-the game played.

I am now a woman- who was once a girl,
With life free of responsibilities,
She loved to dance, giggle and twirl,
Now, she manages home and work with precious abilities.

I have experienced and changed.
I do not feel or look the same.
I have my advancement embraced.
Desire to hold off against a natural tide is lame.

Age has given me many gift,
Perspective being a precious drift,
Calmness as an energy lift,
And conscious responsiveness-a personality thrift.

 

Sitting with Thoughts

What did you do today?
I sat with my thoughts.
My inquirer asks-“what?”
Then, a sly smile and naught.

Some ask- how can you love to be with yourself?
I wonder-why is it tough to be with oneself?
My thoughts are great company.
Take me on old and new journey.

Is it unusual to enjoy company of self,
Undisturbed like a book on a shelf,
Thoughts can take you on unique trip(s),
To destinations that quickly flip.

What makes us seek continuous new stimulation?
Are new apps, games and devices - a real solution?
Or just a digital addiction-
Taking us away from pure imagination.

When newer stimulations promise pleasure,
Undistracted thinking is a rare treasure,
Reminiscing ideas at leisure,
Is without measure.

Maturity

Is maturity, a gain of perspective?
Does it mean-more objective?
Less reactive.
More introspective.

Do we finally begin hearing more and speaking less,
Caring not just for outer, but how we insides dress.
Can we casual comments and actions ignore?
And not let every word or action, harbor, linger or store.

Do we become more caring and kind?
Learn to our own businesses mind.
Stop taking pleasure in gossip and tale,
Understand life will not always be glee and gale.

Do we stop seeking other's acceptance?
Learn to maintain healthy distance.
Does what gives us pleasure changes?
And we learn to choose our bandages.

Do we mold practices that no longer calm?
Update lifestyles with lesser qualms.
Learn more about healthy ways and balm,
And the power of silence, smiles and salaam.

Sibling Bond

Sibling bond is special and unique,
With shared history of pleasure and pique,
Though relations change with time,
Fond remembrances remain of when it was prime.

So many memories of pranks and play,
I recall today, on your birthday,
Hiding grades from parents is just one,
Shared secrets of mischiefs are in ton.

Many incidents bring a chuckle to my face,
Those lazy summer days to brace,
When time moved at a slow pace,
Disagreements were rampant on people and place,

You were both my foe and friend,
Despite arguments that happened to no end,
Our common defense against parents,
Was like gutsy soldiers standing up against mighty tyrants.

There were no phones to give us company,
Our tech free childhood is our shared journey,
With board games, talks and an occasional outing,
We kept busy with outdoor play without parental scouting.

As we grow and have new relations in our fold,
Hope new bring you as much joy as old!

Trapeze Artist

Balance in life is a tease,
Not practiced with ease,
Since we like routines that please,
Over stretching to the point of disease.

Equilibrium is the art of a trapeze artist,
Trying, falling, and retrying the circuit,
One can see- it’s not easy to travel this orbit,
Balancing our heads and hearts is the hardest,

Destination for all is the rope’s end,
Till fate says your time is spend,
And no more remains to lend,
This balance is a dance with myriad twists and bend.

While new experiences enrich,
Slowing and savoring  has its own precious niche.

I cherish my alone time,
And also enjoy company sometime,
Sharing experiences are precious dime,
But being with one’s thoughts is sublime.

What is a Home?

What do you call a home?
A place to rest, after you roam.
A pad to share with those with a common genome.
Or is it firstly and fore-mostly - a feeling, a syndrome?

Rooms, furniture and furnishings make a dwelling,
What makes a home a deep, special feeling?
With what and how much effort and intent?
Are homes sustained despite consent and dissent.

While each unit runs on different principles and note,
Home is ideally where members care and camaraderie  devote-
On each other to feel unequivocally loved,
With space to exist as individuals-without being judged.

So many emotions are at play in each home,
Good, bad and ugly-to which we are all prone,
Sentiments are teased and tested at regular doses,
High and low feelings exist with and without proses.

Happy homes run on large heartedness,
Dollops of forgetfulness and forgiveness,
Not on dominance and oneupmanship,
But on positive vibes and lasting friendship. 







Passion for a Purpose

Passion for a purpose is a unique gift,
That can bring its bearers an unnamed lift,
The act itself- is to which you bow,
Its also to be in a state of flow.

Each of us have unique talents and skills.
Not all exist to pay the bills.
Trance worthy love for the act in itself is a reward,
As we have heard of many painter and bard.

How does one identify such a calling or cause?
That can make everything else go on a pause.
Is it inherited or inculcated?
How is it promoted and percolated?

The activity may not be rational to many,
It may not fetch you a precious penny,
But, absorption in the cause is unique from any.
Not all actions have to be clever or canny,

Lucky are those that can find such an emotion,
Dedicate their hours  and years with deep devotion,
Seeking and finding such a purpose is grace,
Indulging in perfecting it, is life’s purpose and pace.

Living Twice

What if we get to live twice?
Would it feel like a bonus prize?
Will we live differently with perspective?
Will life be sweeter in retrospective?
Second time, I will play, stray and smile more,
Will not let petty problems disturb my core,
Understand life’s a tapestry of encounters to explore,
Some to cherish and others to endure.
Second chances are given on many day(s),
If not in entirety, then in some small or big way(s),
Key is to quickly understand and play,
Hopefully, the second time we can better sway.
Our children also help us relive our lives,
In their choices, we can vicariously thrive.
Sometimes we wish they would take the ford,
Then we have to remember-its for them to choose their road.
Chances in life are resplendent and rife,
Many say-the biggest lessons come from dear wife,
God willing, one learns and remembers without many strife,
Trick is to grab second chances and not be stuck in life.

Time Machine

Wardrobes don’t just house clothes,
They are a time machine that can bring forth,
Smiles, laughs and emotions in drove,
Some items are a treasure trove,

Recently, while rearranging dresses, tops and shorts,
I  recalled a shopping trip where we bought,
A dress for a prom an year,
And shoes to match the gear.

These reminiscences are not unique in their plot,
Yet, lived differently for each parent and tot.

A red coat that we together got,
Hangs in my closet with the lot,
Celebrated its 10th without a spot,
My teen had said-“this looks hot",

A deluge of memories of worn and wear,
Even amidst some torn and tear,
Makes ordinariness of life- special and dear,
And in hindsight without a peer.

So if you wonder, "does time truly fly?"
Isn’t it a relative phenomenon that goes by,
Open a drawer, a closet or a chest,
A find might open a memory door-the very best.

Letting Go

I remember as a child losing a favorite toy,
Nothing said could bring back the joy.
After tears, tenderness and time, I accepted the loss,
And learnt a vital lesson of acceptance and moving across.

Letting go is a complex art,
Attachments are like sweet and sour tart,
Detachment is not something for which we have a draft,
Yet, life and living demands that we embrace this craft.

Though generations before us have walked this path,
Yet, each individual is on one’s own swath.
Slowly we learn not all lost can be restored,
Sadness and sorrow have also to be endured.

Loosening some chords can cut sharper than a knife,
Yet, holding on is against the natural order of life.
Since losses in life are rampant and rife,
It does not help to put up a strife.

The sojourn of acceptance,
Is not bereft of inner agitation,
Can challenge many a disposition,
But eventually leads to affirmation and personal evolution.