Prompt scribbling!!

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Hey Sunday,

You have been so calm today. No rush, no alarms, no traffic horns! Ahh, its your day. I remember now, again. You will, for sure, take spa and facial on your fresh scratches, that must have been drawn by whole week.

I know, I have seen these while playing badminton, being 8. Kids used to torture me for bloody wounds, but I, as a naïve poet, had seen you as letters of life, flowing through elongated veins. I had counted stars at 4, just to wrap constellations in my pocket and show it to wandering fireflies. I used to fancy composition books and short stories in schools, not just to fill out excellent greens in report cards, but to remind myself a better version of world, beyond glory and praises.

I loved the way Baba wrote about Maa - "Madhurima" - an epitome of love. His style, gestures, style of selecting pebbles and flowers always lit my eyes. I knew, i was born to be romantic, in terms of caressing poems and letters. I knew, I have inherited his modest genes.

Through thick and thin, I have tasted life, it's savory punches, lovely waffles, crispy experiences, and after all that, I have seen new mornings, with fresh ginger tea and newspaper, new news and beginnings.

Today might be lazy Sunday, but I hope, tomorrow I will be ready to start all Mondays, refreshed-unfermented, just like saving poetry in dog-house, slow but worthy!


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