As the day closed, darkness deepened,

And the lights on the roads got brighter.

Some places remained dark, and lights were kept low,

Voices remained hushed; hearts started beating faster.

A familiar feeling in the air wafted into my being,

That memory of the season of the leaves falling.

The coolish winter was silently receding,

The summer, building up its harshness, was raring.

It was dark outside when I woke up,

The Sun was hours away.

Through the window, I was facing the darkness,

With a lone star blinking in the Milky Way.

Conversations bring them back, their reputations and their fame,

They are there, nothing beyond just names.

The soil on which they walked and the air they breathed,

Their footprints are long erased, absent also the air.

With the pain of the lane now in my rear-view mirror,

And the wide highway which lies ahead of me.

I look at infinite hopes,

That holds promises to make up for all the lost time.

I remember you saying never to speak of the end again,

That, fate has this habit of coming true if you speak of it often.

So scared you were to live your life with all the chaos,

Everything you did then centred around us.

While she was collecting the remnants of her life,

in the storm ravaged courtyard of her.

She asked me not to come in,

As the child was sleeping on the only bed of her.

From my deepest corner at my darkest hour,
My mind shudders and remembers the scar,
This gullible heart refuses to learn,
Still gets drawn to the flame only to get burnt.

You love me, you desire me,
You want to write poems on me, you want to paint me,
You want to be entertained by me.