Melodrama.


She learnt a new word every single day,
But today was different in a different way.
She played time all the time,
And now time seemed to have strung a chime.

The coordinated notes of life and world,
Unplanned roads, no story unheard.
A leaf so green, it looked pale now,
An answer so obvious, with no question, oh how!

So many colours, the rainbow seemed confused,
She picked a colour, though they all missed the classic hues.
She looked left, then right, and danced the road,
Not realising in the slight, that she carried but some load.

What added zing though, and some angle too,
Was a hope, a story, a reality – blessed and true.
Life is a melodrama, with notes high, low, and fake all at once,
To dance to them, and not shy away, is the trick, a choice, a NOTEWORTHY NUANCE.

-Stuti

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An evening.


They loved theatre,
And went for many too.
The thrill, and yet the reality,
All spun together with glue.

They laughed at the humour,
And sometimes cried too.
They enjoyed it every bit,
The merry, the slow, and now and then as intensity grew.

For the drama wasn’t all that was lovely,
There always also followed a handsome discussion and tea.
Then strolling around a bit,
There were many a exchange of their own stories.

Though some evenings were planned,
The uncertain ones better chilled her spine.
For there was some unsaid sparkle around those,
Just like a scene from a drama, newer stories around an old bottle of WINE.

-Stuti