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A woman longing for her loved one, wishing for the warmth that has been lost, and craving words that touched her soul. A sensitive portrayal.
Sometimes I look for those eyes To look at me With that sea of warmth
Sometimes I crave for those words Words that could sparkle my soul
Sometimes I look for those hands Hands that wish to hold me through
Sometimes I look for that promise A promise that is togetherness
And in all these sometimes I look for a lost part of me A part that is my world A world that is you In everything that is I look for you!
Published here earlier.
Image source: pixabay
I writer by 'will' , 'destiny' , 'genes', & 'profession' love to write as it is the perfect food for my soul's hunger pangs'. Writing since the age of seven, beginning with poetry, freelancing, scripting and read more...
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As he stood in front of his door, Nishant prayed that his wife would be in a better mood. The baby thing was tearing them apart. When was the last time he had seen his wife smile?
Veena got into the lift. It was a festival day, and the space was crammed with little children dressed in bright yellow clothes, wearing fancy peacock feather crowns, and carrying flutes. Janmashtami gave her the jitters. She kept her face down, refusing to socialize with anyone.
They had moved to this new apartment three months ago. The whole point of shifting had been to get away from the ruthless questioning by ‘well-wishers’.
“You have been married for ten years! Why no child yet?”
I huffed, puffed and panted up the hill, taking many rest breaks along the way. My calf muscles pained, my heart protested, and my breathing became heavy at one stage.
“Let’s turn back,” my husband remarked. We stood at the foot of Shravanbelagola – one of the most revered Jain pilgrimage centres. “We will not climb the hill,” he continued.
My husband and I were vacationing in Karnataka. It was the month of May, and even at the early hour of 8 am in the morning, the sun scorched our backs. After visiting Bangalore and Mysore, we had made a planned stop at this holy site in the Southern part of the state en route to Hosur. Even while planning our vacation, my husband was very excited at the prospect of visiting this place and the 18 m high statue of Lord Gometeshwara, considered one of the world’s tallest free-standing monolithic statues.
What we hadn’t bargained for was there would be 1001 granite steps that needed to be climbed to have a close-up view of this colossal magic three thousand feet above sea level on a hilltop. It would be an understatement to term it as an arduous climb.
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