आजकल हवा चलती है, बहती नहीं,
इसीलिए शायद नीम का पेड़ पत्तियाँ गिराता है न चाहते हुए भी…
छोटी थी जब मैं तो पेड़ से झरती थीं पत्तियाँ खुद अपनी खुशी से,
हरी-पीली और थोड़ी सूखी पत्तियों के ढेर पर कूदने का संगीत दिखाता था उनकी खुशी…
आज भी ढेर लगा है बाहर, मुर्झायी भूरी-काली पत्तियों का,
बोरे में भरकर ले जा रहा है सफाईवाला, फुरसत ही नहीं है बच्चों को कूदने की।
“Tell a lie again” she said…
“I love you” he whispered..
“She was not like other girls. She never was and she never would be” he whispered. She was not beautiful, not pretty but there was something in her which always made him go weaker in his knees. She had that otherworldliness he used to write poems about. She was the one with deep scars on forehaead and a beautiful and deeper smile on her lips. She used to have a big heart where anybody could come in to be a part of her happiness. But those very parts ripped away her happiness slowly and made her heart a cold narrow place where nobody could fit in.
She made a wall so high before her heart that it was impossible to climb it. He always wanted to break that wall but feared if he does the same unknowingly. And that fear made him love her without any expectation to get that love back from her. He was in love with her and she was still learning to love herself…..❤