Stale-fresh

Crushed wings, tattered soul,
Battered fate, ravaged and all,
See the dawn, dark and red,
For the night yester has bled.

But the morning shall be fresh.
For one and all;
Dreams may lie,
But do they die?

Life is not a given...

This is not a good time to renew my penmanship. It has been months since my last blog. A year has turned. And with it many things have turned a new leaf. Many things have changed to what they were. I am chubby once again. No inspirations there. I am away from home. It’s not my favorite time of the year. I am told that Kolkata’s boiling hot. That does not console me much as Hyderabad is hell’s kitchen. I am getting bored. And I am having a hard time to find it in me to forgive somebody who just badmouthed me saying that I complain too much. It’s 2 a.m. in the morning and I can’t get any sleep as the guest house a.c. is busted. Thank god it’s Sunday tomorrow.

Till better times…