Thursday, February 22, 2024

A Love Letter to Spring

I was dutifully tending to my plants as if it were a delicate ballet of watering in the choreography of nurturing. I had forgotten the art of pruning and fertilizing them. I'd moved them from the living room to the brightest afternoon spot in my window (sadly, I moved my indoor plants to my window and my peace lily is was suicidal). On a Monday morning in February steeped in weariness, I noticed a slender stem emerging from the heart of the spider plant. At first, I dismissed it as an impromptu guest in my green sanctuary, born out of some seeds my mother might have just dumped in my planters.

Wednesday, February 07, 2024


At times, she looks at him as if
he is a pastiche of galaxies.
Cold—oh! so cold—on the surface,
constantly undergoing a shift.
His eyes hold clusters of stars,
catastrophically beautiful, made
with all these colours she cannot spell.

Sunday, February 04, 2024

Celestial Lovers

Written in 2018.

Such bright lights rest
within these stars; will
his eyes ever contain all
the radiance? His frenzied
fingers run through
her curious hair.
How did he find the
dark hues melted
in her locks? She unlocked
the doors of her mind
in silence. He drifted in,