To the evening sky

Why are evenings so beautiful if it's going to be nightfall?

If I do a live commentary on the weather would you watch it all?

How the sky and it's clouds change colour so often

From golden to orange to red, molten

I think the sky likes to take turns

To match it's favourite flower's burns

Today it is the gulmohar red

Tomorrow it will be the violets, they said.

Don't you think the clouds should also have a say?

In matters of importance like these nay?

Carry forward

They say old habits die hard.

Is that why I cling

to a particular idiosyncrasy

of a past lover

and shamelessly flaunt it in front

of the next?


I ask for cold coffee at Candies

even when you're not there

For Nirmal Verma at the Prithvi bookstore

after realising his brilliance

I look for a book

with your common yet filmy name


Why?


Maybe because I like to own my scars

instead of hiding them.


My playlist bears testimony to the fact that

Carnatic music and Jazz can co-exist,

thanks to you two.


By the way, ever since you told me

about the empty rhyme scheme

my poems haven't rhymed.


This once, I want to kill

an old habit

of mine

Of loving people

past their time