Ashubh

Tha tumhara andekha, khule dhule humare yeh kuch dhage
Phir phir baarish ko dekhe mann mein tumhari yaad sataye.

Sick leave.

Prolonged indecision sits in you like a monsoon bug.

Your stomach is turned empty. Your mouth feels foul with bile clinging to your taste buds. Long after you've washed down two glasses of water and Gravol.

The bug rejoices somewhere deep in your intestines. While you lay weak on your bed hair matted on your forehead. Sweat creasing your back. Nausea making you hate having tasted the Veggie burger. Making you wish you could throw up the very last drop of water so your stomach wouldn't have anything sitting uneasily in it killing your nausea. Atleast for a while.

If only indecision could be flushed out as easily as vomit.

Sometimes, Libra also means an illness.

In May

To perch upon a cherry blossom
And coo to her heart's content.

Rows of fluffy pinks
Dispersed with blotches of magenta ink.

Her heart does a dance
So little so wee.

She laughs she whirls
Like honey pots and a bear

So full with glee.