The final journey...

Reminiscing about the past...
She begins the last lap of her journey.
The beautiful childhood of gay abandon...
Of hills and seas...
Sand to dig the heel in...
Quiet contemplating time at the graveyard...
Talking to the ghosts unseen... The demons lurking around...
Oblivious of the dangers...
Just by herself...
Perched on a rock...
Her feet dangling over the grass...
The seeds of the green blades...
Stuck to her socks...
Velcroed on the knitting...
Picking on the prickly ones...
She whiled away her time in Solitude.

Grown up she, a recluse all by herself...
A misfit amongst the many...
Yet holding her own...
A countenance well known.
The throb of many a secret hearts...
She stepped into the oblivion again...
To surface towards the fag end of her youth...
Broken and bitter of experiences.

Yet she marched on...
Forging her signature amongst the Giants...
Thwarting advances of the Wolves...
Falling prey to some...
Gaining in confidence and experience...
She booted the past in the bum...
Yes, the lonesome one...
Arbitrary in her dealings...
Moved into her comfort zone.

A bolt of lightening hit her once again ...
She sat upright and thought...
It is time to pack her bag...
For a journey into the unknown.

So she neatly packed a suitcase...
And bid adieu to her little ones...
For a cruise of a lifetime awaited her...
With the Supreme being at the helm.
Farewell said she to her flock...
The lamb bleated one final time...
She hugged them and waved a goodbye...
A tear rolled down the corner of her eye.

The final lap across the globe, the final destination in the horizon.

The Cunning Fox...

The lair all set,...
He keeps an eagle eye... Watching for a pretty prey...
The man the so called man, called Indivar ...
The Cunning Fox...
The twice married lusty fellow...
Waiting and pouncing on women..
In the Virtual World...
The Social Media his tool for affairs...
Spurious words and lyrics from songs...
The pictures from the garden his unaware wife maintains...
Enough to trap solitary souls.

He is not alone...
There are many more....
The Cunning Foxes of the menace called...
The Social Media...
They wait and watch their bait...
Then rest is a flow of sob stories that follow...
And the bird is ensnared.
The Cunning Fox gobbles up the poor souls...
Then looks for another to trap in his sweet words.

Another Love Story Bites The Dust ...

Once again, just another heartbreak...
Once again, the heart bleeds...
Once again the cocoon is spun...
Once again to hibernate.

Why fall in love...
The fall hurts...
The heart sobs...
Tears well up...
And, you can't tell anyone your pain.

Aah! To be happy ...
How do others manage it?

How can they be happy?
Yet all the sorrows in her kitty?

Is she not made of flesh and blood?
Is she an experiment of God?
Does God try his stunts on her?
To see how much a bleeding heart can endure.

Just another love story...
Bites the dust.

Corruption is a state of mind ...

http://wp.me/p3njM2-12

Guilty as charged ... #GoFigure

You are guilty as charged...
You left her stranded in the middle of the night ...
You left her bereft of faith in men ...
You left her in midst of high strung emotions...
You left her ...
You are guilty as charged.

What did you offer her?
NOTHING...
Yet, she chose you over countless others ...
Yet, you left her high and dry ...
With nowhere to show her face.
You are guilty as charged.

Wallowing in sorrows unknown...
The depths of which engulf her ...
She drowns ...
Trying to catch a breath ...
She swallows the sea water ...
Filling her lungs ...
Gasping for breath ...
She flays her arms ...
Splashing the waves around ...
Succumbing to the deathly hallows below ...
She resigns to her fate.
YOU ARE GUILTY AS CHARGED FOR HER UNTIMELY GRUESOME DEATH.

Happiness eludes her ...

Yet again,

Happiness eludes her. Just when she thought all was going to end , a sudden gust of wind came along and blew the nest of her dreams away.

Yet again, she became lifeless.

Yet again, she turned into a zombie.

Yet again, she killed her dreams ... her desires ... her feelings ... yet again, she felt cheated by her own.

She withdrew into a cocoon. She spun the weave around her ... Yet again, happiness eluded her.

Yet again, joy skirted around her and bereft her with emotions. A steady stream of warm tears flowing from her eyes , traversed along her cheeks ... she tasted the salt in it and yet again ... happiness eluded her.

Cherubic persona

The cute double chin...
The podgy look...
The layers of fat..
Make her look good...
The cherubic look...
Her persona.

Funny is her demeanour ...
Sweet is her smile ...
Baby is her looks ...
The cherubic look...
Her persona

Nostalgia of a bygone era ...

The whirring of the fan above cannot mute the music playing in the background . Music of a bygone era ... muffled memories , screaming to be heard once again.

She moves about, completing her chores. Almost robotic actions but for the mind immersed in thoughts remeniscing about good old days.

A nostalgic remembrance of love lost and found over the years. Each a unique tale to write about. Each an unrequited Love story legends are all about.

The Vagabond Virgin that she is ... She is lost to the present World. In her own thoughts she finds solace ... In her solitude she is happy.

Days of yore, joy de viviere... she lets escape an utterance of sighs and a smile across her wrinkled lips pasted ... she moves to her own realm ; a dream world where none can enter.

Men came and knocked at her heart but this Juliet never let anyone in. Her ideal Romeo not found yet she chuckles and says ... I love my freedom... am not ready to give it all up for anybody. Ah!!! Matters of the heart ... What to say?

Nostalgia like a cloud ... engulfs her and consumes her in its wake. Lost to all she moves in her own make believe World.

Her life her Decision.