They say, Seeing is believing,

But no one believes the things I saw-

The way the lines in the tiles

Swirled, into a moustache

Or a woman’s flowing mane

No one believed when I saw the racing moon;

While riding back home,

The blemishes on the bright face

Made me realise she’s just a girl too



First time, mum was worried ,

said, Try to be a kid

Second time , she just smiled-

Years later , I realised it was sad.



I still see things

The pattern in the knitted sweater

The way she holds her tongue while talking to me

Everything tells a story

The way the night goes from black to grey

As if it’s telling our minds-

The worst is over, now come and lay

Everything has a story

Not all we know about,

Not all I’ll tell.

Clouds At Sunset