Tell Me No More of Enchanted Days

Clung to a wall With others just like it, One day, he decided to break free. The puffed clouds called him, Come move with us. The blue sky said, Aren't you bored Of hanging out with the stuck ups? He pondered and analysed All the pros and cons. Won't the others laugh at me, For being happy when I'm not Supposed to be? My nature is to stay in a place And grow and fulfill and obey. But the mischievous wind Gave him a push and for once, He had no excuse. So he broke into a jig And danced and moved. Jumped up high and felt so new. Then settled back again, Hoping no one saw him, No one did. And he smiled a creepy smile, Just like creepers do. Not really a wallflower anymore. Just a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. And promised himself he would do Something free every day some more. Maybe this time laugh with the moon.

  So my last birthday post was 11 years back. I was young, foot loose and fancy free and angsty. Rebel without a pause, those were the words someone had used for me, I remember. A bull in a China shop, falling in and out of love.  Of course, I've changed. But that's not the point of this post. It's about birthdays. Some of us revel in them, and a few like me loathe them. At least I used to, till last year. Because I had expectations. And no one could match them. The blip in the radar was not how I celebrated me, but how others did. But come on, 42, mid life crisis, children, Corona, who the fuck cares about your birthday? But I do. I have come a long way and will give myself a pat on the back, not just on this momentous year, of giving zero fucks any more, but all those years when people did try. And thank you to those people for trying. I may not have said it then, but as you grow older, memories form a big part of your existence. My first awareness of 'self' was i

  That perfume you wear, Just to keep your weary soul From pushing into overdrive. The restless thoughts subside, Fade into a calm silence. Sleep finds its way, and Black shadows repelled. The colour of a winter evening When we hold hands to bring  Forth compassion and gratitude. Some times of friends, Other times just our own. Rub and smell the flowery warmth Of love and solitude. Oh, long forgotten elusive peace. Stay with me and let me be. Peace be me. Peace be me.

The sky was a dull grey, a strange mix of acceptance and anticipation. It looked like it would rain and the night would be another cold and persisting one. But she hated being indoors.  After picking up her print outs from the neighbourhood shop, she decided to go have a drink. Citrus, her cat would wait up on her, but that was okay. Tonight called for a warm drink, something spiced with honey. And some cheese and cold cuts. She made her way to her favourite cafe. Bars were not her thing any more. They were loud and the men were raunchy and stinking of beer. She had always been shy and hated small talk. She preferred nerds and bankers to the adventurous type. They were more well read and well mannered anyway. A bike swerved and almost hit her leg from behind just outside the cafe. She yelled at the guy in the leather jacket and helmet. He apologized profusely and she accepted his apology. He took off his helmet and smiled at her. He had long hair till his neck and an unruly beard.  &qu