.Colours.

The striking strokes of

Your paintings

Which you never painted

Keep calling me

To the worlds of

My unwritten poems

Oh my sky…

I could not read

The colours now

I could not paint

The words now

I feel so incomplete

Without your art..

Why are you so numb

Can’t you hear

The chords of my poems

Which are the paintings

Of your heart

---chaitali.

.Her Innocence.

The wonderous generous
Zesty lust of life
Goes crippled with her

Kills her,fills her with
Sheer wisdom and maturity
Which she wears
Like a pardah against
Her childlike face
When she stands tall

But deep in heart
She is afraid that
Where to bury innocence

when
She will be called
The wisest amongst all

---chaitali.