There are moments here, when the sky just fills with clouds and though it is not raining yet, it is often in the precursor that makes us anxious. The idea is we are all filled by this anxious feeling of not knowing "what next" but planning incessantly for it. I sometimes believe we are designed for this , while there are times when the need to know is all I have in my mind. For sometime now people have wondered why I write about the things I write,and though telling them about topics suggested by others and musings of the day isn't always satisfactory, we walk in between these little things I choose to capture. For today my day 45, is about such an transition between the warmth and the cold, between the rain and the snow and about anyone who shares it with someone, a friend, a mentor or whatever your situation may be. For now they find me chairs to sit, when I want to run, for now they find me a place to be when I find solace in being anywhere and everywhere else.
Just Pretend
Pretend we are gone, somewhere long time ago,
We are covered in rain, we are waiting for the snow
We are cold inside out, we are barely awake,
But we hate to rather leave and walk home instead
Just Pretend
Pretend we are gone, somewhere long time ago,
We are covered in rain, we are waiting for the snow
We are cold inside out, we are barely awake,
But we hate to rather leave and walk home instead
Do I find you a chair,
Do you pretend I am not there,
Holding what comes and what comes but so sincere
The days comes and goes and the stories they build,
There are dreams that are born among the ones that are killed
They are kept in the envelope you can wake up and go,
You are nothing if not a friend, like ever before
There were times when I walked, I walked you to the door,
There are places I couldn't be, were the ones I wasn't looking for
In between the read books, in between everything that's easy,
I find meaning in fiction that feels more real, I find answers in the mystery
Do you find the footsteps by your door, are they coming in or going away,
Are they fresh from the snow outside, or they just a bit warm as they come your way,
You figure out the rest of days, I figure out simplicity in just this bit of time,
Just pretend you were written long ago, you were a piece of writing in my mind
Do you pretend I am not there,
Holding what comes and what comes but so sincere
The days comes and goes and the stories they build,
There are dreams that are born among the ones that are killed
They are kept in the envelope you can wake up and go,
You are nothing if not a friend, like ever before
There were times when I walked, I walked you to the door,
There are places I couldn't be, were the ones I wasn't looking for
In between the read books, in between everything that's easy,
I find meaning in fiction that feels more real, I find answers in the mystery
Do you find the footsteps by your door, are they coming in or going away,
Are they fresh from the snow outside, or they just a bit warm as they come your way,
You figure out the rest of days, I figure out simplicity in just this bit of time,
Just pretend you were written long ago, you were a piece of writing in my mind
Sometimes you will find no sign of footsteps, time has already erased everything then how could you decide, are they coming in or going away?
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