यादों की निर्जन बस्ती में,पोटली लिए फिरा करती है झुमका,रिंग, हँसी,काजल,इमरोज़ के इश्क से इश्क करती है

यादों की निर्जन बस्ती में,पोटली लिए फिरा करती है झुमका,रिंग, हँसी,काजल,इमरोज़ के इश्क से इश्क करती है

Waiting for you… my November

You are my November

beautiful like the despair of autumn leaves

when the season takes a turn in deep sleep

like promises that I couldn’t keep

You are my November morning

shivers which scream of unsaid moaning

You are my November afternoons

akin to the zari border ripped of a benarasi sari

i had long kept to save up a memory

You are my November

but what am I, a question lingers

I am the winters waiting for November

in search of the tangerine hue of those cold evenings

rummaging the arid dreams in a desolate night

portraying the crimson shades of a shivery mornings

anticipating the flutter, quiver, shudder of a lone fire

i am a distracted flustered soul

a little in October

afraid of December

wanting to be ubiquitous

here and there, inside -out

i am a fragment of year

i am the sand that’s slipping between fingers

waiting for November

My November



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