The objects of history.

The lion frozen in time tells a story of his doom. 

The old scarlet kimono, probably the best one from the loom. 

A buddha reclined, and another beheaded

Vases and urns from a mighty kingdom merely flooded.

Ignore.

With the ways of the whimsical,

Life seemed a musical,

Then came along the typical,

And fun went on a sabbatical.

Love Irony.

Love took me,
Like a sleeping bud
Perished in the winter cold.

The underrated fable of overrated truth.

Music

Such fervor and energy uncontested
She spilled the notes over
Like a dancing child of the first rain.

"Ashwini Bhide Deshpandey"

Shallow words.

With crystal eyes
Of a reverberating trapped longing
Pure and plain
He looks at me
To describe to him in words
What he means to me, but
Words aren't good enough for him
Words, such haven't been formed still
Words of a language extinct, that will never be.

There you stand in the crowd.

looking into my eyes

I look into yours.

and a world is born all over again.