The birds I see in the azure sky,
appear as a victim in the hand of pride...

Mom tells me to finish my homework quickly,
When I ask why?, she tells me...

The state of darkness
accelerates our delight in the sunlight...

Time moves at an unceasing pace.
The passage of time, brings in its wake...

As the falling rain,
prepares the earth, for the future crops...

Every step upwards means,
the leaving of something behind...

Slowly, I creep into your thoughts,
bringing about a transformation...

The clock struck twelve,
the midnight started swinging...

We poets are farmers still,
ploughing our mind in the invisible field...

Pebbles scattered on the ground
amidst the greenery around...