Every night , when the day has long gone to sleep-
When men ,women and children sleep peacefully in their bed,
But, I am wide awake -hurt-burn ,fights sleep away
Time when I pick up my pen to put thoughts to paper-
To vent my emotions less I stagnate
I am not at peace with myself
Little worries here and there -
Like shafts in your heart,
Too stony to open up- I ll never completely recognise myself
The silent of the night fails to soothe the pain-
The quiet whirring of the fan whispers fanciful tales.
Of a princess left unconquered by the Prince
Who left to conquer the unmapped country
His footprints washed away by time.
No avenue to retrace his steps
But the fan whispers a secret in my ear-
The Prince shall return someday
As the pauper or the greatest ever-
And claim his princess on the shores of the Ganges.