I wish to sprawl out on a white deck chair by the rooftop pool. Of luminous blues rippling softly with the scarce lazy breeze.

And close my eyes as my skin feels like it is expanding under the glare of the sun. Then dream of soft poems of why the summer delights me to a slight tingle in my toes.

But sometimes there are no words because what is, is just as it is.
And that's really, that.

When Happy comes back to sit not on your head nor your lips.
But to sit in the pit of your stomach, you know...
You know that the songs that you sing are now from the bottom of your stomach and not throat.

And your songs are all happy too.

Found

Her brown hair a mess of waves framing her face and hunched shoulders.
A light feeling makes her giddy in stomach and tingles down to her toes.

Her pencil pauses as she smiles at the familiar rush of delightful excitement.

It may not be the same as the night of limelight at terraced gardens. Of a dance of jumps, linked arms and waists wrapped in red satin sashes.

Or of the embarrassment at the rehearsals on the cool tiled floors near the World Trade Centre [of 40 odd storeys] .

Her heart rolled on the waves of the sea in anticipation.
It will not be the same but it'll be enchanting.
All over Again.

Undeniable

Quietly, the phone is placed on the darkly stained pinewood desk.

There's a sudden calm in the air, even as her hands shake with the tremors within.

A silent acceptance of the turn of events. Of her doing. Of another large reservoir of 'what ifs' to carry around for her lifetime. Of helplessness.
A quick glance to the dull gold book cover etched with a peaceful face holdng up a flute.

And somewhere the music doesn't play but the words stream in as easily as the light through the glass windows.

" We were meant to live for so much more. Have we lost ourselves?"

Our days with Hazel

Floor to high ceiling glass panelled windows encased in a room of three quarters wooden panels in the clean lines of contemporary design.

Franctic studying alternates with exchange of whispers of childhood chance encounters in the hallways and buses [the joys of school buses]. Of innocence in reasons and logic. Combined laughter after sudden bouts of [one-sided] embarrassment hidden behind long locks of dark brown hair.

Of sticky notes organizing our anxiety of weeks to come [in moss green, mango ice cream orange, raspberry pink and mauve- the delights of Post It !].

Highlighters, pencil cases, binders, book-bags cellphones. The whiteboard still the most favoured, and fun, study aide.

Wrappers of food brought in discreetly. Hand lotions on feet, winter clothes to defend against the Evil of the library.

So much to remember so much to miss.

But the men of the kingdoms await or so the wish granting cow says.
So if you shall excuse me.

My summer is still booked and I'm feeling as happy as it is May.