Words.

​In a parallel universe

If people were words and 

The world was a book, 

Each day would be a new page 

Rustling, 

Turning.

Each event would be like

Ink spilled across the pages and 

We would notice

Big, fancy words 

Sipping green tea, surrounded 

By its aroma, sitting 

In an elegant plaza, dressed 

In rich, ironed suits, talking of

Intellect and philosophy in

Their posh language and voicing 

Their bold opinions, scrunching their

Noses at

Tiny, little words running 

In the corner, playing,

Jumping, 

Tripping and enjoying themselves,

Living each moment 

Freely, 

Innocently, and 

Interrupting the on going 

Sophisticated discussions –

Their honey filled laughter 

Pushing the posh language aside, and

Finally the big words would 

Crack a silent smile, proud 

Of the sound of the ringing laughter 

Spreading warm hugs in the 

Chilly winter season. 

Beginning.

I smiled reading that simple message
Of promises and colours,
Painting my eyes, colouring my face,
Flowering my cheeks and
Decorating my laugh with those little
Words of hope and joy, writing down
A book on our past and future,
Of which, the present is just
A mere chapter.