Few Years back I would wonder how stories were weaved,
Today, I know how letters are sown together in the fertile land of mind, watered with imagination and cherished with delicate care
From those letters grow words, which are taken and tied together with the thread of interaction and made into stories..
September calls for stories,
Stories of yours and mine..
I wonder how would it feel again
If you tell your story to me like the first time?
You would be that lady in Old Victorian gown who lives in an abandoned mansion situated in countryside with some 20-30 cats , who keeps herself warm by sitting near to her fireplace while her man sits opposite to her in an armchair reading her a chapter from the copy of Harry Potter. In between, he winks at her whenever the book mentions Hermione , and she winks back because she understands.
When the first snow falls she stands near to her window admiring what nature has to offer and her man looks at her , admiring her for that nature has offered him in the guise of a mortal , the most beautiful creature in the whole world .
And as each minute passes, I am more certain of the fact that I am born for you . . to be with you.
Existing to complete your equation of life, fate and death. You paint my soul in all the colours of rainbow, holding me steady just like a tree is held by its roots . Strong and Still.
I wonder, do you even know how your mouth uttering my name coats my ribs ? bringing warmth to my soul ? The heart is engulfed in that warmth and I can survive my hot and cold night alike.
To know that I am meant for you is the greatest joy , you have given to me apart from the joys that you have been bringing each day, every hour , every minute with each breath of yours mingling with mine.
Love, You are the definition of love for me. From beginning to end, the part of same cosmos yet which keeps on existing in different dimensions .