A day in my room

Right now I am sitting in my room,

My eyes reaching out to my balcony, the flower blooms .

I just took out the mattress mom bought for me,

Looks like antique but is somehow dust free.

The room is so quite, I can only hear the fan,

There’s this picture in front of me, of a beautiful man.

I don’t know who he is, I guess I watched a show,

My brother said he would tear it out and I screamed NO.

I also own a book shelf with many untouched books,

I evidently judged them by their covers or looks.

I took out one of them & it smelled old,

Ugly cover and pages were dull and cold.

Here’s a diary which includes all the shayaris that my father wrote,

Beautiful handwriting and precious notes.

This small room has so much life in it,

All the memories and furniture perfectly fit.

The photographs consisting love and pain,

The beautiful balcony that made us witness heavenly rains.

I am living in the moment and it passes so soon,

Started writing in evening and I can see the moon.

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