Day 241: Stairs & Flights

I never got the concept of late night because it differs in strange ways in the lives of others. It is when you need to be and whatever you need it to be. Among such nights, I am honestly surprised by the warmth and familiarity of even strangers. Sometimes the familiar people are the ones who will make themselves approachable in brief moments of time. As we write stories and lyrics to songs that we rarely sing, I am charmed by the musings it talks about and the random conversation on stairs of flights as they begin.

Stairs & Flights
I think of these random things, that aren't random to you
That have been familiar & yet seem too real to be true
They are like fiction that reads like reality
They are moments of truth, or whatever I define them to be

These lyrics that I will write, as I sit on the floor this night
Writing of all that has been told & untold, my day as I summarize
Will I sing with my eyes closed as the night falls asleep
Will I remember them in memories, some that I will get to keep

O stranger on a colder day, the wind blows just bit by bit,
Realizations on my window stay, like warmth that never quits
I would talk of tales, of the rights & wrongs & things we do
We are storytellers in the later hours, writing poems for you

This pursuit with no meaning, no binding format or form
This chasing of words that happen without any norm
These writings that come together, just a little every day
And conversation on flights of stairs, with familiar strangers stay.