Listen

Hello,
Listen to me
I am the wind
That whispers in your ears
'Spread your arms.'
Feel me.
But
You are lost-
In the virtual world
Ignoring my embrace.
Hello,
Hear my voice
I am the cuckoo,
My voice is melodious.
But you never listen
You love that digital song
Hello,
Come and see me,
I wait for you
To flatter me
I am beautiful
Look once,
I am the spring.

Workaholic Lover

'I am running out of time to work on myself nowadays.'
'Yes. You are very dedicated to your work. It seems you have married your work.' I sarcastically added.
'I love working.' He laughingly answered.
'I know.'
'But now I feel like working on myself. Working on inner quality and getting the sweetness of it is a great thing.' He thoughtfully replied.
'We are here to polish our talents.' I said sounding intelligent.
'Nothing will stay, but if you work on your inner quality and feel it that will help you and stay with you throughout your life.'
'True.' I replied.
'Good. I hope you understand.' He replied.
'I understood.'
'You will take time to understand. Will talk if you want on Monday.'
'Monday.. ' I asked.
'Sorry. I mean when we meet in the future. Actually the official message popped up.'  He justified.
'See. I was correct. Happily married to your work.' I added.

Midnight Letter

Dear Beloved,
It is midnight and raining outside. I am still awake. I wish you were there and I could talk to you. Even your presence would have mattered. Though you are miles away, yet I can reach you by just a call or a text. But tonight you ended your day early. Had you not been tired, I would have talked to you for a while?  But I completely understand your situation.
Sometimes, things get perplexed personal or professional. And the need of talking to someone increases. And tonight, the urge to talk with you has increased. I just want to talk about things that are troubling me. I want to talk on the insecurities I feel. I want to talk of things that I fear. I want to talk of my mistakes, of my unfulfilled dreams. I want to pour out everything like the raindrops sputtering on the rooftop.
Yours ever,
Angry Bird.