Green Slippers/Black Slippers

One fine morning
He came to my room
Hurriedly
Slipped his feet into my black slippers
Lying around,
Carelessly.
As I watched
Half awake
Half asleep
And in a fraction of second
Vanished.

As I woke up
expecting
A hard stony floor under my feet
I stepped on
Green grass
Soft and lush

It was his green slippers
That he had quietly left
While I was sleeping.

Ankush, 27/5/13

To Love...

To love is to die
One way or the other
Through pain and pangs and sorrow
Or through the bursting gust of pleasure
In the hands of the heart
To choke
To dream
To fear
To waste
To cry
To laugh
To hold a gun to the head
And stand at a mountain top
And wait…