A forgotten spur.

She climbed up the stairs,
Without any thoughts.
She went to the terrace,
And could see a beautiful tomb across.

The skies were clear,
Yet not so blue,
It wasn’t the weather,
Yet there was dew.

The red stone of the tomb shone,
Yet not so really.
The grass around glistened,
No reason yet pretty.

She stared at the tomb, and kept staring at it,
No emotion in her heart, only slight regret.
She longed to be a part of some history too, if not this,
She warmed upto the thought of history- precise, yet mysterious.

She had contained her imagination always,
But it had somehow spilt today.
No limits put to it,
Yet it had crossed limits in some way.

The tomb was pretty,
And enchanted her.
It today planted a thought in her,
Or in fact re- kindled a FORGOTTEN SPUR.

-Stuti

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Forced to be forgotten?

Of times simpler,
Of moments lighter,
And wishes smaller,
When all that was possible.

Of roads less travelled,
Of discoveries waiting to be made,
And inventions made but forgotten,
Wondering what went wrong.

Of subtle joys,
Of lows higher than low,
And details minute,
Mind wanders those roads.

Of jokes that made no sense,
Of science backed by all reason,
And still many theories conflicting,
Yet all co-existing, even though overlapping.

A moment of truth,
A period of silence,
A patch of broken road,
All there, but existence denied.

Many leads,
Nothing to tie them up and string them together,
So leaving them here as stories told often,
But forced to be FORGOTTEN.

-Stuti