Visions of your straightened hair
draping the shoulders...

One winter morning
back from a stroll...

Once, I hit upon Love in my way.
She asked...

Forming a circle, they are standing still
akin to olden bronze statues...

[ Diwali is a festival of lamps at nighttime...
When light investigates...

My abandoned poems
arranged themselves...

That stupid alarm clock!
Drowsy hand reach out...

Earlier this piece was named "The paper...
Plastic cricket ball...

His voice was faint, lips feeble
tattered coat...

We are all diced up
boiled individuals, you know...

I won't tread the path again
Let the grayish belt of asphalt...

Clatter on tram tracks
puddles of rain...