Initial Offerings by Rupali Desai: a review

If I have regular readers then they would know for sure that poems have a special place in my heart. When I met the author of “Initial offerings” while working with her during the Kolkata Literature Festival 2017 and learnt that she is a poet, I couldn’t resist myself from grabbing hold of her book and reading it. The result of which, is this review. The minimalistic cover is what drew me to the book while I turned the pages and went through the blurb.

According to the blurb- Initial offerings is a poignant yet tender collection of poems which offers its readers a pure and a beautiful expression of the author’s emotions and feelings of life as-is. These poems have an uncanny hint of spiritualism in them. It is a combination of multiple themes and elements that give this book its universality, suppleness and infinite appeal. Rupali addresses topics such as love, devotion, the subconscious mind and qualities such as humility, arrogance, indifference, beauty, dream and desire. This book is a paradox of sorts as here you will find a poem about death (Death of my beautiful poem) and another about ‘Life being so precious!’ This book will take you on your own personal spiritual journey and help to rationalize some of your feelings bottled deep inside in the most understated of ways. Be prepared to be surprised!

I know that everybody reading this would second me if I say that I have been surprised with the blurb of the book. Never before had I read any blurb of a poetry book that is so beautiful. Reading this, I was sure that I have to read the book. As I kept on flipping through the pages from one poem to another, I was so engrossed in the writing that I almost forgot the world around me. Yes, I would agree to the fact right in the beginning that the poems are lengthy and might seem stretched at places but as you keep reading through it, you would fall in love with the writing style of the poetess.

Talking about the writing style, I need to say this. As the poetry in the book progresses, you tend to find a tune in the poetess’s words. There is a specific style in which the poetess writes and the style catches on to you. Guess what happened to me? After I finished reading the book, I re-read it and after that whenever I wanted to write something or the other, I ended up writing almost like the poetess. All the more reason to wait for a day or two before framing up and uploading the review. One of the best things that I liked about the book is the fact that it has all flavours and all themes incorporated in it. It doesn’t limit itself to just one theme.

The contradictions in the book and the fact that two contradictory themes can exist in one book tells every reader how polished the writer is. I also loved the fact that there are two acknowledgements in the whole book. One, to begin and the other to end. Aptly justifying the name, these offerings make the book what it is. If I have to list the cons of the book then I would say that the poems are lengthy (and I realised that I have mentioned that earlier) and also the fact that the book is a few poems too short. I would have loved the book had there been more poems. Having said that, I also expected a few poems to be crisper than it already is. Even though I am always in favour of wordy sentences, poems at times demand crisper lines. All said and done, I would give this book 4 out of 5. Looking forward to more writings from the poetess. 

Amir Khusrau The man in riddles by Ankit Chadha: a review

Amir Khusrau. To begin with, who hasn't heard about him? What if I tell you that you can now know about the life and ideologies of Amir Khusrau from Ankit Chadha's book, Amir Khusrau the man in riddles. The book is short, crisp and yes, no less than magic to hold. It has a book jacket, royal blue in color that perfectly matches the royalty of the person written about. Illustrated and matte to hold. This is another book that I am sure to cherish in my library.

According to the blurb- A riddle is a mystery concealed in words, each a clue you must unravel. In this book, it is also a piece of verse, part of the puzzle that is the fascinating life of Amir Khusrau. Gloriously illustrated, crafted with care and sprinkled with delightful snippets of history, Amir Khusrau’s Book of Riddles is guaranteed to bewilder, inform and entertain children and adults alike. Work your way through the riddles on your own or challenge a friend, or just read on for the answer and a peek into the thoughts of one of this enigmatic poet, mystic and musician.

As you can already guess from the blurb, this book makes the riddles by Amir Khusrau. Through the riddles, the author has beautifully shown the intricacies of the mind of the the legendary poet. You get to see, accompanied by various illustrations what the mystic thought when he went about the serving at the courts.

These riddles are so interesting that they touch the heart of every reader and you will surely want to know what the answer to the riddles are. Go by the riddle and lose yourself among them as you delve deep inside the mind of the great Amir Khusrau. With every riddle is an accompanying illustration and answer along with how it affected the mystic's life which adds more value to your read.

If I have to speak of the cons of the book then the one thing that comes in my mind is the fact that the book is only 20 riddles. I would so want to read more of it and more of what it has to offer in the mind of the mystic. Apart from that, this book might not be for the people who is looking for a proper read. This is more of an experience, must and one time read. A must read for people of all ages. For me, this book is 4.5 out of 5.

PS- This book was given to me as a part of the Flipkart Book Reviews Programme.

Weathering the Storm by Sampoorna Gonella

How did it feel

Scaling boulders, waiting

For a drop of golden sun

How did it feel

Pebbles strewn on your path

Hoping for a glimpse of soft grass

What did you do

When you were the only one

Stranded in nature's harshest thicket

When you were left to scramble

In unforgiving bramble

Your shadow your only friend

Did you let it rain

Admit you're slain

Or see it to the end?

When you braved life's each storm

Each thunderbolt

With not a quiver of your nerve

Then why does the siren

Of the battlefield

Leave you frightened and perturbed?

And so a mother wrote

To her warrior son

Fighting in perilous land

So he steered every blow

But to his mother's pride and woe

Was buried a martyr in golden sand.

About the poet- 

Sampoorna Gonella is an occasional blogger whose thoughts often scurry off to faraway places without her permission. The results, infused with a little rhyme and rhythm, are here to see. Enjoy!

Igniting Key: A Collection of Poems by Pramila Khadun, A. V. Koshy and Bina Biswas: a review by Amit Shankar Saha

This volume of poems is one of the significant anthologies to come out of the stable of The Significant League, a poetry group in Favebook administered by Dr. Ampat Koshy. The book primarily comprises of poems by the 2015 Reuel Prize winning poet from Mauritius, Pramila Khadun, but also includes a fair number of poems by the other two contributors Dr. A. V. Koshy and Dr. Bina Biswas. Dr. Santosh Bakaya in the blurb writes that this volume offers “an exciting journey into and sojourn in the world of poetry” and no doubt it does. Reena Prasad in her foreword writes that if “a book can be a poem, it is this one.” We seldom come across such a highly recommended volume of poems in today’s world that can prove worthy of the appreciation showered on it. So this is perhaps one of those rare moments that a reader can indulge in, discover a hidden track and walk the pleasure path seldom travelled. One can pause and pick up a line from Khadun’s oeuvre and brood at “Dead leaves make soil/ And dead loves make stars” (“Call it by any name”) or one can become one with the poet and “feel like writing/ An everlasting poem of love” (The joys of summer”).

Michele Baron in her introduction to the volume writes of Pramila Khadun that she “treats the reader to a potpourri of poetry, ranging from rhapsodic odes to love and the poet’s beloved, to well-phrased railing against the injustices and inequities of the world.” Khadun writes with a vision and her poems have a smooth texture so that one can seamlessly read them one after the other. But this does not mean that one may not pause to ponder. The pondering is a luxury that she offers the readers as a gift. In “Lover returns” she writes “One evening, as she sat by the bubbling brook” and in “Soulmate” she writes “I heard your voice reverberating/ By the bubbling brook.” The recurrence of the same imagery in the two love poems interconnects the two and produces the effect of an organic wholeness. Khadun’s conception of love is unique and she reveals it gradually as we read. In “The beauties of silence” she writes,

In the silence of night
Grew the art of loving
Exchanging the sexual pleasures
So near to Nirvana.
She writes again about love in “Mysterious Love,”
Her love for him
Is neither from favor nor frivolity,
Neither the soft touches nor the hot kisses,
It is not even the sexual pleasures
Close to the nothingness of Nirvana
And then in “Silence” she writes,
There is silence in the smile,
Silence in the act of love-making
And silence in the waiting
And the longing, as well.

This gradual unveiling of her idea of love is like an adventure of discovery that she leads the readers into and her carefully chosen diction makes it all the more pleasing. She can often end a poem dazzlingly with a couple of lines that will last in memory for long – “And eternity is too short/ To love you” (“Doubts and fears”). Reena Prasad rightly says that Pramila Khadun’s poems have the ability to connect with “the tenderest affairs of the heart in a sensitive and refined manner” and she best depicts that ability in a beautiful poem, which has a curious title, “Don’t be silly.”

When she is not engrossed in love, she can take “eagle’s wings” and can feel the essence of her “feminism unfolding gently” or she can become spiritual and envisage “a long Viking boat” on the waters of the Brahmaputra or she can revisit her old home and muse how “When the fruit grows, the petals fall off/ When man grows, memories fade off” or she can “no longer decipher/ The architectural designs/ Of her feelings” and plunges into “a sea of silence” to crumble “into cosmic dust.” Khadun’s imageries are fantastic and her imagination spell-binding. If at all she falters, but very rarely, it is when she becomes didactic and loses some amount of grip on her craft as in “The school within us” or The Scarecrow.” But these poems too have memorable lines. In “Blood and ink” she says, “I simply love leaning on your verses/ O poet!” It almost echoes the reader’s stance on reading Khadun’s poems. The hidden track the reader has discovered and is surreptitiously travelling has stiles and bushes to lean on and ponder with a smile in the mind’s sanctuary and then to continue the journey blissfully. Very soon the journey itself becomes poetry.

When the reader comes out into the clear there are two more little paths to discover paved by the poems of Koshy and Biswas. Ampat Koshy’s poems are different from Pramila Khadun’s poems is to say it mildly. Reena Prasad says that Koshy’s poems “refuse to be cast into any comfortable mould but rise like yeast does within the reader and spill their beauty all over the place.” In the poem “Aria” he writes most memorably: “The cold of winter penetrates my bones,/ while I play Russian roulette with my life.”  Michele Baron mentions about Koshy’s erudite irreverence and wry humor and it is aptly displayed in his poem “Setting the world on fire.” On the other hand Bina Biswas has bewitching nuances in her poems and she, especially in her shorter poems, is rather mystical. Her poems “Canonization” and “Coincidence” are excellent in that department. Both Koshy and Biswas add something extra to this volume that is a bonus for the readers. It makes the experience of reading poetry pleasurably complete, if there is at all an experience of completeness in reading poetry. The triumvirate adds variety and makes reading well worthy. Igniting Key ignites the poetic sensibility and takes the reader to a plane of bliss. There are a few typos and editing errors but they are not jarring enough to intrude on the pleasure of reading poetry. And all the three poets leave their indelible marks in this volume. This book is highly recommended for poetry lovers.

About Amit Shankar Saha- Dr. Amit Shankar Saha is a postdoctoral researcher, a critic, a short story writer and a poet. In a previous avatar he was also a guest professor teaching at the distance education programme of Madras University. His love for literature led him to obtain a PhD in English from Calcutta University. His doctoral dissertation is titled “The Indian Diaspora in Transition: Reading Anita Desai, Bharati Mukherjee Sunetra Gupta and JhumpaLahiri.” His research articles have appeared in journals and anthologies nationally and internationally such as Research and Criticism (BHU, India), Families (Kolkata, India), Pegasus (Kolkata, India), Decoding the Silence (Delhi, India), Comparative Literature and Culture (Purdue University, USA), Cerebration (Drew University, USA), DESI: La Revue (Bordeaux University France), Diasporic Consciousness (Germany), Humanicus (Czech Republic) and others. His essays and reviews have appeared in Desilit Magazine, Muse India Boloji, Rupkatha, Langlit Diplomatist, Asian Signature, etc. His short stories and poems have been published in periodicals and books both in India and abroad such as Estrade Magazine, Muse India, Journal of Bengali Studies, The Four Quarters Magazine, Kritya, Indiaree, Writing Raw, Palki, Learning and Creativity, Hall of Poets, Asia Writes, The Dawn Beyond Waste The Red Balloons, Tell Me a Yarn Blessings and others. He has won prizes at a number of creative writing competitions which includes Wordweavers Award Poiesis Award for Literature, The Leaky Pot - Stranger than Fiction Prize, Asian Cha – Void Poetry Prize, and others. He has also written for the Chicken Soup for the Indian Soul series books. He is the co-founder and coordinator of Rhythm Divine Poets group. His website ishttp://sites.google.com/site/amitshankarsaha and he blogs at http://amitss6.blogspot.com

Just try

The times we waste waiting, What we desire the most flees, If we had only tried our best, We wouldnt be tagged like the rest.
Show what you are,
Dont shy away,
Try your utter best,
For everything is a test.
Time we say is our friend,
Not forever though you see,
When the sand is about to end,
We let out a loud cry,
Alas, time why did you say goodbye?
So rush ahead and take the plunge,
No one will question why,
For you arent a coward now,
As you the warrior that did try.

Mother: An inexplicable definition of love

Hello friends, had some free time on me and since its been too long writing something for Our blog I decided to throw in a few lines depicting two characters. A mother and a son. This post is not a short story nor a poem nor is it lyrical in any manner. Its basically a few thoughts that came into my mind when I heard from one of my friend a story of a cruel son who killed her mother and took out her heart for the women he loved. Upon hearing the horrifying story I remained aghast for a few moments.
I am sure that you guys might have heard it from your elders or read it somewhere. But the question is are we really what our parents wanted us to be ? Can we be a supporting pillar of our parents ? Do we possess any quality or trait of our parents ? Did we inherit the love giving from our mother ?
I pondered over the same questions a hundredth times, reminding myself to find an answer to these questions !
Alas ! The answer couldn't be found in the fold of our mind. Because parents, and a mother in particular doesn't think before she gives birth to a child, doesn't think before she feeds her milk to her offspring, doesn't think when she teaches her child to talk. Hence the child remains blinded, not realizing his mothers love. Thus the answer to the questions was just a Yes in love, unconditional love. Because all your parents expect from you is love.

"Remember the day that you were born,
Lay in the cradle so helpless,
The world far from the reach of your thoughts,
Your hands and legs weren't yours,
There were no dreams about the world in your eyes,
All you knew was to cry and sob
To drink milk and sleep was your job.

Your mother held your hand and taught you to walk,
Your mother had placed you in the locks of her heart,
In the lap and shade of your mother you grew and flew like a moth,
You started growing within a fraction of time,
Slowly as the time passed by you turned into an adult from a juvenile,
And the whole world seemed graceful to you.

You started showing the strength of your arms,
Started showing your accuracy of speech to the one who taught you to speak,
Started dressing, caressing by yourself.
One day you saw a girl and fell for her beauty,
And then she became your bride and walked into your home,
You started getting away from the people of your own,
Sowing the seed of hatred by your own.
Alas, you started forgetting your mother and father,
Launching the spheres of hatred upon your parents,
Words for words you started a quarrel,
Reading a covenant that was new to you.

Remember the day that your mother had said you once,
That I cannot live without you oh my son,
Upon hearing this your nerves started to swell,
Your anger exceeding the level of your tolerance.

Angry and furious you said to your mother,
I was silent, still and tolerant,
Today I say to you, leave me alone
Break all the bonds that we share,
Go and get a living for yourself,
People die but death never comes to you.
Seated in a corner, your parents had started filling their life with tears,
Yet their tears dint reflect guilt upon you,
And than there was a day that your father left the world sulkily,
How your mother was broken and shattered into pieces.

In the state of helplessness, she kept calling for her death,
Life had now started treating badly,
One day even death felt piteous,
Fate had fell for her sobs and tears,
Shining tears in the eyes, she passed bidding good bye.

Just a hiccup turned to be the reason for death,
There was a faint smile on her lips,
A sign of peace on her face,
And than you were dressing her in a shroud.

Years passed by and you are old now,
Lay on the broken bed you have become week and old now,
Your childrens are now fearless and disrespectful,
Hatred filled they dont love you,
In an agonizing pain you cry out loud, oh my mother, oh my mother.

(Dard me tu pukaare ke oh meri maa).
PS: Be grateful to your parents, without them the world seems nothing.
Be kind to them for kindness is act of worship.
Be respectful, for one day you will have childrens of your own.
- Ayan Khan

Will you be my valentine ?

As I sit back to pen many a line,
Glimpses of you sway in my mind,
Though we never did share a kiss,
That cheerful face I'll always miss.
Argue alot we have, that I can't deny,
Yet your beauty fogs up my eyes,
Many a difference we have that's a fact,
But didnt physics teach us, opposites attract?
Friends we are, forever that may not change,
Atleast we can still meet up from time  to time,
Yes, we are many a mile apart,
Alas, you hold a special place in my heart.
Life is too short to dwell upon,
So I don't want this to be very long,
For this might be the last time,
I get to ask, "Will you be my valentine?"
#Asad #Ayanthenewauthor
#VdayPoem

Happy new year 2014

Clutching hands, entwining fingers,
romantic stares, seductive touches,
lovely dates.... It was all what I
could find to describe a year with
you... The seed of our love sown...
The flower of our love, blossomed...
Loads of understandings and
misunderstandings... And then, the turning point of them all, our turning into one.. Our marriage... A promise
that was made, to keep forever... A life, that only consists of us... The
fairytale life we dreamt of... And as
we ride this rollercoaster, a year
passed by... A life well led, Today
as I look up to you, kissing away
every sorrow, pain, regret; and the
clock ticks 12 and it brings utter bliss. The year together has come to an end, and yet it has brought another year for our love to bloom again. To you my love i express my adorn, for the year together that you had me through the forlorn.
Thus you made me what i am, brought from a solitude prison to an unfastened abode. The year ahead has yet new plans akin and another 365 days for our love so serene.
The clock now chimming 12 and the sky churning A HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Inferno

To hell i am coming
For the chthonic monsters await
The dark souls of the underground
Bring you to your horrific state
Aloft the earth lies all at stakes
For the mankind has witnessed the catastrophe,
It would take a moment for you to comprehend,
that my friend the would has come to an end
The journey you started of agony,
battling memories that brought you melancholy,
nailed in the wall read the plaque,
for i am the man that caused the plague
It has always been this way,
first the birth followed by death
To reach paradise, you just pass the inferno
For this is truth that you seek,
and strive it to try.

Believe

Don’t let people decide what you should do,
Don’t let them tell you what’s good or bad,
Don’t be the puppet attached to the string,
And mimic whatever they do or say,
For you are great in your own special way.

Them star readers try to tell you what your day will hold,
How can you believe them so easily?
When twins born on the same day,
Have totally different destinies,
Yet you happily come into their predictions,
Don’t fall for their words as they will lead you astray,
For they gain their knowledge from objects,
Millions of light years away.

Gypsies and fortune tellers too are alike,
All they do is hypnotize,
And make you nod your way into submission,
I pity the people that believe the tarot cards,
For how can you be so naive?
To let a piece of cardboard decide,
What lies ahead in the mysteries of life.

Be like the river that meanders its path,
Or like the wind that blows in its own direction,
Have confidence in whatever you do,
And you shall always succeed,
So spread your wings and be free,
For none but you can shape your destiny.
                                                                                             
- Ayan Khan

Me 'n' You : I loved you

In the darkness of the night,
The incident of your plight
comes in front of me..

I shudder, I stare;
I am scared, I fear
The fear of losing you again grips me...
I wonder why you did that?
was it I to blame?
or was the situation too lame?

I wish to see you once.
Meet you one last time.
To see you fine-
atleast once before I die ....!!

For You...

All the thoughts that occupy my mind

Have bade me a forever goodbye;

New thoughts prevail of you and us

And I am happy, not destroyed...

You made me strong, you made me happier,

Trust me love, this love makes me a lot heavier;

But thanks to your love, thanks to your care

I am here, living; with you, only you being my desire...

I so wish we never have to part,

Longing for your care, is just in my heart;

I promise you love, would be yours forever,

Just be with me baby, love me, that’s all I aspire...

                                ^LOVE AND BE LOVED^

In reply.. To You

"I tried to stop you from where you are going

I wanted to accompany you there,

You Fought with me and left me behind

And now you're stuck, in the middle of no where..

              

Time is running as fast as it can

Tried to run but failed to understand,

The pace with which it moves, for any other man

Can't stop it now, it had to be done beforehand..

I'm there for you don't worry

For not being with you before I'm really very sorry,

Don't be scared but hold my hand

I'll be there for you without making you understand.."

pardon! look a while ...

It’s high time sweetheart

To feel, to bear, the pain in my heart

Oh dear;

Long time we've been apart.

Can’t say more, running out of words

Tears, overflowing my thoughts.

Lovely face- so dear to me,

Smiling eyes- too near to see,

Head back to me darling

This is all I can say- in glee!

Lucky me or unlucky me... 

unnamed..

I was happy those days,

When you were by my side

I used to look at your face and the days would pass by..

“dear son, how could i explain

What happened when your father left us;

Days were miserable and were full of pain

We became homeless and life was a great fuss..”

And then one day you left me too,

I went mad when i couldn't find you

But then i found what life had for me

Love was the only thing that i could see.....

death..

why do people have to die?
...
"you came, you went,
you were past.. you are present.."
death,  significant better half of life...
we come alone, we go alone
we stay alone, a part of it..
we sleep alone, we eat alone
we die alone and that's it..
we cry for them.. we laugh with them,
we share our joys and sorrows..
we play with them.. we dance with them,
we stay and know there's no secure tomorrow..
Yesterday, at 5.30pm, i lost a part of me.. i know, i'll never get that person back.. trying to be strong.. i wrote the above lines long back.. never knew these would get into use so soon.. broken and shattered.. i want to treasure every moment of life spent with that person.. calming down her close people hasn't been easy for me.. but, calming myself is feeling near to impossible now.. i know i cant do anything for this.. but.. i just want to convey this message to the person.. I LOVE YOU, I ALWAYS LOVED YOU AND I ALWAYS WILL.. DON'T WORRY, I'LL TAKE CARE OF EVERYONE IN YOUR ABSENCE . WOULD NOT LET ANYONE CRY AND BE WITH EVERYONE WHEN THEY MISS YOU.. BUT PLEASE, MY DEAR, GIVE ME THE STRENGTH TO BEAR THIS.. Come back to me.. the parting words to that person.. may your soul rest in peace and remember wherever you are, i am there by your side.. i love you..

26/12

Towards the sky goes the water

gets a blow and again falls back,

then the sky forms a rainbow

you can see or never look back...

     the sweet fragrance of the rains

     the unheard melody it contains

     reminds me of all the pleasures of life

     listening to songs with a carnal delight...

after the rain has stopped its play

a sheet of water covers the road

the smell of wet rain in its place,

itself has a magical story untold...

     the rhythm of the water, when it falls on the roof

     the untouched raincoat hanging on the hook

     the smell of fries from the kitchen

     can i please get one more piece of chicken?...

the sweet evening with the family

is an evening hard to find

the rain brings us together

and makes it all so divine...

     all this is fine for a day or two

     what would i say if i were you?

     the rain is gone-

     and so are the memories formed by it

     one more page of the photo album,

     and was that just it?...

the night of terror found its way,

the advent of tsunami, as you people say-

destroyed the happy moments of yesterday

only i was left alone with the memories..- 

         which i suppose wasn't really gay.........

sis..

of all the people I know in life

close and sweet are few

One who's been forever with me

is no one other than you....

Of all the times we spent together

of all the rides we rode

of all the rides we rode together

neither were we tired, nor were we bored...

Of all the sweet bonds we both shared

of all the friends we had

we both had the same choices

and were both mad for the same chad...

Of all the fights we had for toys,

Of all the fights for love

of all the fights we had for clothes

And all the love for clove...

Of all the moments we lived being happy

of all the moments being sad

we both were, for our mothers, very moody

but in our hearts, we both were, for each other, secretly clad...

The only person who stays with you

apart from your friends, family or mister

can also be the one in need

and is one person, who the world calls- a SISTER.....

Who was She?

Passing by the by lane just beside my house

On my way to work every morning;

I see a girl, in rags and bits

And one fine day i go her following..

Then what i see was hard to believe,

She walked and walked with no destiny;

Was hungry by her looks

But couldnt buy food due to lack of sufficient money..

School and studies was she deprived of,

Clothes and food among the other few;

Slowly she went to a temple nearby

And stood among the others, extending the crew..

Maybe luck had something else for her,

When her turn came to eat;

She didnt get any food for her

But all the temple dwellers started her to beat..

She bumped into a car while running,

Physically hurt and mentally unstable was she;

Someone got out of the Car just then

Picked her up, and i understood for her next to god was he..

He put her in the car and went,

I still went following him;

I got to know that he is a doctor

And the girl had some bad bruises which later affected her skin..

Today, 10 years passed from the incident back then,

I saw that doctor again;

He was old and couldnt see

But he had a girl who helped him in his pain..

I talked to him for the first time then,

Asked him whose girl was she;

He dictated me that incident again

And now how happy were she and he..

Tomorrow

That particular day called tomorrow..

When you were supposed to go and subject me with no more sorrow

When we met today after an age i guess..

I couldn't help it but the feeling inside my heart was really hollow ... (depressed)..

An age ago we dispersed and you still remember every part of it..

Every part of it means a lot to you, which once meant my life to me

I’ll store today in the calender of my heart..

Treasuring every moment, treasuring every part..

Till my last breath.. mind it dear.. till the very last breath

I’ll be there for you, will love you.. will try to fill the void in you..

Will be with you..

In your happy times and also the times of your ill health..

That day called tomorrow, i don’t know what will happen to us;

But one thing is for sure.. today’s memory.. is a part of me.. a part of my past..

 PS- i know the spelling of "Chevrolet" ....