I collect parts of myself, ones that roll like coins in a silent room. These are messages hidden in some corner, perhaps under the sofa. I put them in a teacup. No cream or sugar there. And I find the flavor of me again.
Nothing doing
I found ten ways of doing nothing. It was the eleventh that did me in.
A new season
When you think your destination has reached, become a driver.
My story
I am still reading the book that I am writing.
Ode to a flower
I asked her, how do you feel beautiful flower, knowing of your short life. She said, why do you waste precious moments in contemplation and soak in the joy of my being.
A prayer
What will I do with your picture, my creator?
Come, visit me, when you can.
Till then, I’ll befriend this world.
Love lasts
He was the ink she wrote her love stories with. One day, the bottle rolled over and crashed. Walking to sea, she washed her ink soaked palms. Spreading love everywhere.
A challenge
With each maddening step taken, she laughs with awe.
Mystery
In all the edges, she saw a puzzle worth solving.
A whiff
She walks with thorns. And when she smells rajnigandhas she dances. 
