White hair.

Life flashes before my eyes, I can smell her hair that are now white. It had always been my definition of beauty. That scent.                                                                                       Over the years,it had become a part of me and yet I was never fulfilled. It still came from her, and I always lingered. The hunger still remained. I wish I could could take it with me. I can’t remember how many years we have been together, how many arguments we’ve had, the jewellery and clothes she owns but I do remember the first time she glanced at me, how she looked into my eyes with hers. When her curls spilled  themselves across her face and she took her hand to remove them.  Between her hair, through our eyes, our souls had caught on fire.

I lay in her lap, my life at her disposition, her toes touching my hair every now and then. I realised this is where I truly belonged. She was my goddess and I was here at her feet.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              I was breathing my last breaths they exclaimed, don’t crowd him they said. I wanted to be there, at her feet. With the whole world in haziness and only her insight. Her, me, us and our memories. After all the phases, positions and places in our lives, I had found where I belonged. It took me my death bed to find that out. I wanted my last breaths to be taken away by her, her kisses had always made me breathless. Only because she was so passionate and so divine.

She asked me- “Shall I get up and lay you on the bed?”
Her white hair reflected the light from the tube and her wrinkled hands shivered as she said. I smirked and she smiled. we both knew the answer. A translucent layer of tears brimmed her eyes as she gleamed in sadness and happiness.
We both knew,
The night would come and a day anew
People would eventually scatter,
Go to their respective homes and chatter,
Come back to check on me in the morning,
There would be tears and a lot of mourning,
But we’ll be here smiling,
As our bodies will lay, side by side
Like the water with its tide.
In heaven we’ll meet as the world tells stories of our love; I’ll take her scent and she my touch.

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When curls come alive !

My hair is  just like me,

It wants to live and be free!

It starts out ordinary,

then curls around where it feels merry.

It plays its own theme song

and grows however long!

But there’s no place for things like these

You have to dress, to please!

Every occassion demands a mask.

To school,it goes braided

So in the mosaic it can be easily faded

To a party, it must maintain decency

so we have serum to change its frequency.

To suit the environment

It must confine its rather beautiful scent.

But there’s always once place

on the corner of its terrace.

Where it can be,

where it finds its self simply free.!

where humming music lingers,

and shadow of trees dance,

it makes its own way ,

curls around at every chance.

Because in this silent place,

where there is no one to judge,

no feelings that urge.

No formalities to complete,

the wind blows casually..

Whispers to my hair, time to get a little silly!

No hairbands,

no blow drying strands,

No clips,

no artificial smiles and tips.

Just craziness abound,

My dear, curl around!Image