Music of the Cobbles

(I)

Slender beauties gracefully walk in high heels
Thrumming ecstasies in the bricks and surrounds
Mesmerizing thousands of eyes into racy follies
That scream under wheels as dead-stoned cobbles

(II)

I hear the rustle of dry leaves crawling on blocks

Voices of the goers, rising and fading and gone
Giggling benchers echoing unevenly yet clear
Grumbling tyres climbing unending patterns
Of packed dark cobble-stoned roads of Europe

These remind me of similar roads of old Calcutta

Only that there its much more crowded and noisy
Leaves stamped by pedestrians and lazy vehicles
Their screams overshadowed by the screeches
Their lot insignificant and lost in the multitude

(III)

Whoever lives on these roads, wherever be these
The noise and irregularity sediments over years
As a regular pattern in life, an unnoticed rhythm
Striking a chord to the unknown and the unaware

(IV)

This is not where the story ends, but here it begins

I start musing over the building blocks, of life
As a matrix of people, moments, dreams and hardships
Connected by destiny, gathered in frames of time

(V)

With the approach of twilight I hear them livened

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Author Note "Good writing takes more than just time; it wants your best moments and the best of you."

Now it’s my turn

For the first time when I tenderly bumped off the ground,
And even since before when I first heard your voice from beneath,
You have nurtured me, putting your life drop by drop into me.
And now it’s my turn.

Everyday I have imbibed your smell, its in my bark, and in my roots
Whenever you've touched, the leaves haven’t withered, but tinged by you
Always I have been you; your breath and blood have livened me to this.
And from this day, from roots to smell around leaves will be yours.

Winds have bent me; Cold froze and Rain cut my tender stem,
Yet always you've protected me, and my other brothers.
Now I have a strong stem, wisdom of light, and powers of darkness
I shall serve you with these, and all these, till these are mine.

But I shall plead you not to trade me. Let me be yours loyal
I like to be your home, your shade, and give back your fragrance
When you fall in love, lie in my shade, and let me create the magic
If you be afraid come and hide in me, for now it’s my turn.
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"Good writing takes more than just time; it wants your best moments and the best of you."