Stories
Snap out of one.
And submerge into another.
One has my voice.
The other my eyes.
Stories, both
One verbose
The other black and white.
I pull me out of incessant rambling
So I can chase words around pages
Full of characters, woven to entertain
As they live their journeys through my eyes
One syllable at a time
I make my way through the wars and losses, heartbreak and joys
Murder, deceit and lies
That fill these pages.
Only to recognise, stories are everywhere, within and outside
Stop now, don't you see?
There's no running
From that which makes up
The very fibre of our being.
© Sneha Singh 2015
A paper boat makes its way
Upon a wave, unafraid
Until it rains, until it pours
And robs the boat of its control
A butterfly flutters by
Taking to colours and open skies
Until a bright orb shines its face
And the butterfly fades away
The mighty storm
The blinding lights
Have shaken my anchor
And closed my skies
As here I lie in my cocoon
For that which fixed me once
May do so again
Soon
© Sneha Singh 2015
You to me. Fluidity.
Like streams gushing through crevices
You make your way through my veins.
Me to you. Memories.
Like stars that speak through foggy nights
I twinkle now and again, when you shut your eyes.
We to us. Journey.
An ongoing pace, a beautiful phase
Wherein we are constantly uncovering
Pieces of each other.
© Sneha Singh 2015
